Pandora's Box
by Minnionette
Summary: Sequel to AGRT. It’s up to Snape and Harry to save the universe, and it somehow requires a good Tom Riddle. Ghosts of the past and skeletons from the closet accompany our intrepid heroes on their adventures, and it's a bumpy ride for everyone involved!
1. Chapter 1

**author's notes**

Believe it nor not, _Pandora's Box_ was originally meant to be a light-hearted drama that poked fun at what was, at the time, considerably popular ideas and cliches (Severitus challenges, slash, DADAProfessor!Harry, NonHuman!Harry, SuperPowerful!Harry, Female!Harry, Amazon!Harry, Aftermath!Voldemort, etc.). It opened up _worlds _ of fun possibilities (no pun intended) that I got to explore to my heart's contents, as well as to offer some unanswered questions in _A Gutter Rat's Tale._

Then the story took a turn for the... worse? Complex? Dramatic? For whatever reason, some of the characters insisted on making this light-hearted thing into a very complex, very deep story with loads of metaphysics and phisosophy. I still maintain that this is _not _my fault - the characters that I borrowed from JK Rowling decided to hold Plot for ransom until they got what they wanted. However, _ PB _ did manage never to dig to the same level of depravity, despair, and darkness that _AGRT_ and _That Which James Witnessed_ reached. _PB_ started shortly after AGRT , but it refused to be written as swiftly or as easily. It took two years to write, but I returned some months later with a short side-story concerning Cousin Quigley and his angst.

I did manage to control the lenght of the story, even if it would up being nearly twice as long as AGRT . Oh, there are loads more I wish I could do with it, all sorts of fun little side universes that I never got to explore and wish I could. But the story was getting too complex and, for odd reasons I've never been able to discern, it seemed to scare away a lot of readers. Oh well.

Eventually, given enough time and ambition, I would love to do a sequel to _PB _with _The Dresden Files_ (because I can).

* * *

o-o-o-o

* * *

Harry looked around himself in surprise. Where was he? How did he get here? He shook his head to clear the fogginess threatening to overwhelm his thoughts, and decided to focus upon his surroundings. The bleak darkness lightened into muddled colors and blurry figures.

From a far off distance, he heard a voice. It was thick, as if the speaker was trying to communicate with a mouth sticky with syrup. "You are charged with haunting Muggles and their possessions, and deliberately trying to inflict upon them harm, Severus Snape. How do you plead?"

Another voice, this one sharp and clear, replied, "I hardly see how you may constitute my forcing someone who is more than eighty kilograms overweight to exercise as deliberately trying to do harm. I do not appreciate the idea of spending my after-life with the blubberball after he has had a massive coronary before he becomes an adult."

"Nonetheless," the first voice said, "you know it is against the law for the ghost of a wizard or a witch to haunt Muggles. We cannot fault your desire to remain close with the last living member of your family, therefore we shall not lock you into the limbo realm. However, if you do not wish to be banned from the realm of the living, you must never again show yourself to another Muggle or haunt another Muggle appliance."

Who was speaking?

Harry squinted his eyes at the blurry surroundings, trying to make out a shape. He dimly understood that the Ministry of Magic was speaking to Severus about his choice of afterlife, but the significance seemed to escape him.

"Very well then." Harry cringed at the cold snarl in Severus' voice. Had that tone of voice had been used on _him,_ he would be running very quickly in the opposite direction. There was a brief moment where nothing happened, and then something exceedingly chilly wrapped around the area below his waist.

"Where did he go?" another voice demanded.

Severus' voice, floating freely beneath Harry, said, "I am currently haunting my nephew's underwear. Now kindly leave me to the shattered remains of my dignity!"

_That_ Harry clearly understood. "Nooooooooooooooooooooo!"

* * *

"Nooooooooooooooooooooo!" _Thump_. 

Harry opened his eyes and saw brown. He lifted the upper half of his body and felt beneath himself. The brown was his bedroom's floorboards. As he groped for his glasses on the nearby bed stand, he felt a chilly breeze that made the hair on the back of his neck stir in response. Harry put his glasses on and turned to where Severus was floating.

Severus peered curiously at Harry. "Nightmare?" he asked.

Severus Snape, if he had been alive, would have used the chance of Harry's waking up with a scream and fall from bed onto the floor as a delightful chance for torment. Dead, he tended to be more pleasant to be around with. Not by much, but when comparing the way he treated Harry to the way he tormented Sirius Black on holidays, Voldemort every other weekend, Lucius Malfoy the other every other weekend, and the Dursleys' toaster oven the rest of the time, there was a significant difference for which Harry was grateful.

With no more secrets and all his motives and actions explained, Severus was no longer sullen and bitter towards Harry – just in general. Since he now spent the majority of his afterlife in the same house as his nephew, Severus took it upon himself to train Harry as he was sure Pandora and James would have liked Harry to be trained. Of course, all pleasantness aside, Severus was a hard taskmaster and difficult to please. His sarcasm was still uncurbed and his overall malice combined with his constant fierce glare continued to remind Harry that Severus Snape, even as he was formally a gutter rat Harry's great-grandmother had rescued and adopted as her grandson, was still the formable (ex?)-Potions Master of the Hogwarts Dungeons.

This was good for Harry. Severus had single-handedly booted Harry out of the depths of depression he had sunk into over Cedric's death.

(_"You think you're depressed because someone was in the wrong place at the wrong time and died for it? Snap out of it before I feel forced to do something exceedingly embarrassing to Voldemort just so you feel better!" _

_ "What sort of embarrassing thing would this be?" _

_ "I haven't figured that out yet, but it may involve underwear being strung up public view." _

_ "How can that be embarrassing?" _

_ "I'll be sure that Voldemort is still wearing them when I string them up." _

_ ". . . Oh . . .") _

It was something of a comfort for Harry to be reminded that he should not feel sorry for himself. After all, things could be worse. Just look at Severus Snape – that immediately helped put things into perspective. And Severus swore up and down that Cedric had personally told him to tell Harry that he knew it was not Harry's fault and if Harry did not stop pouting, he may find himself unexpectedly whacked upside the head.

Since it didn't do to try and think through that, Harry proceeded with life. "Your father moved beyond sorrow," Severus had said. "If he can do it, at the age of three, after seeing his parents slaughtered in such a manner that it made Pandora's hair go gray overnight, then you can do it when it was just a fellow student. You have the strength of both the Potter and the Snape families. You _can_ do it." _Or else,_ his black eyes said.

As Harry looked at the transparent figure before him with hair wild and curly without its custom grease, Harry suddenly wondered if Severus planned on returning to Hogwarts to teach, just as Professor Binns continued to do so in the History of Magic. He shuddered at the idea of the pale, transparent Severus Snape tormenting poor Neville.

Severus Snape continued to gaze at Harry in silent patience. From experience, Harry knew Severus (who, quite literally, had all the time in the world) would not leave until his curiosity had been satisfied, or at least his question answered.

"It was sort of a nightmare," Harry began hesitantly. As Severus frowned, Harry wondered if it was safe to divulge the dream's content. "Not a painful one or even a sad one, just something that is scary because it's kind of embarrassing."

At the look of glee that crossed Severus' face, Harry knew he made a mistake in wording his explanation. "Embarrassing, you say? Do tell!" Thinking desperately to change the subject, Harry turned from Snape and glanced down at his homework. He frowned in confusion at the sight of at the red correction marks that crisscrossed his paper.

"What did I do wrong this time?" he demanded grumpily.

Severus sniffed indignantly as he seated himself cross-legged on Harry's bed. "First," he said, holding up one long finger, "I am _only_ helping you with your homework to the point where you understand that you are not getting it right, and where it is you are not getting it right. Second," he held up another finger, "I will not tell you the answer because not only would it be cheating, but I would also be showing favoritism."

"As if you never did before." He heard nothing in reply as he sat down at the desk Uncle Vernon had purchased for him when Severus threatened to blackmail the man otherwise by haunting his company car. Harry glanced through the list of ingredients, and then at his homework.

Fifth year Potions homework was composed largely of making up one's own potion using five out of ten ingredients listed. The students were supposed to already know what the ingredients did from last year's Potions lectures. Knowing how the ingredients reacted with one another told a person what the most likely reaction and purpose the potion would create. Harry frowned as he sorted through the ingredients that Severus had ruthlessly slashed a red mark through. "What's wrong with putting a newt's tail with a rat's gizzard?"

"Aside from a rat not having a gizzard?"

Harry wanted to beat his head against the desk's surface. "Let me guess," he said slowly, "you added a couple of fake ingredients."

"And where," Severus asked pointedly, "where were _you_ when I explained this in class?" He floated upright. "Now, if you need me, I shall be forcing 'Dudley-kins' on his hourly run." He drifted down through the floorboards. After a long moment had passed, there came a shriek of dismay and then the sound of pounding footsteps. Harry craned his neck to look out the window. He saw Dudley, half his original size and still wearing his pajamas, waddling as quickly as he could down the street as a stick, held by the now-invisible Severus, poked him continuously in the backside.

Aunt Petunia cried every time she looked at Dudley, wailing on how her baby was withering away to nothing. Uncle Vernon said nothing. The first (and only) time he had threatened Harry since Severus had arrived, he found himself suspended by his ankles from the rafters while a cauldron filled with a deadly skin-eating substance boiled and steamed away beneath him. Severus, perched on the rafters, spoke in great detail of what would happen should he untie the rope that held Uncle Vernon securely to the rafters.

Harry had once asked Severus if the Ministry of Magic would do anything because he was haunting Muggles. Severus had replied it was highly unlikely the Ministry of Magic would not ignore the matter, as the only anti-ghost charm in existence was too complex for all but the most highly skilled Charms Masters to perform. And Flitwick owed him a favor or three.

The only person he knew, Severus added lastly, to ever perform the spell as precisely as it was supposed to be done, was Francis Potter. Relatively speaking of course, as he was not around when Francis succeeded, but he did know Francis' portrait, which was close enough. Most people just tolerated ghosts because of the charm's difficulty.

At the thought of his great-grandparents, Harry's attention drifted over to what Severus had labeled, "Pandora's Box." Though Harry had pointed out that the box was Pandora's, and therefore _could_ be considered Pandora's box, Severus made the cryptic remark of an old Greek legend involving curiosity, all the plagues of mankind, and hope. Before Harry could ask him what he meant, Severus went on to complain about Harry's lack of general education. Harry simply rolled his eyes and ignored Severus thereafter.

The box was plain dark brown with a single silver fringe around the edge. It hardly seemed threatening or even filled with an unknown source of magic. Either way. Severus had forbidden Harry to open Pandora's Box. Perhaps he had done so because of Harry's curiosity and his unusual ability to a) disobey and b) get into trouble regardless of good intentions or, for that matter, any intention whatsoever. Harry had sulked on how Severus did not give him enough credit.

As matters stood, Harry was neither desperate nor currently suffering a life-and-death crisis. Because of that, it was highly unlikely he would find a need or excuse to open the box. Still and all, Harry felt himself drawn to the box, like a magnetic to metal. It taunted him, like a low voice that called and pleaded for his attention.

The box sat on a small table in the very corner of Harry's room, the Mirror of Rebounds beside it with the cracked surface flipped over to face the wall. Both items were out of sight of the rest of Harry's family who never entered Harry's room anymore, lest they, in their "Muggle-stupidity" (as Severus liked to call it) should meddle. Harry studied the objects; they sat on the table for more than two weeks, and still they commanded his attention. Every time he looked at them, he felt as if he should do something, but the desire couldn't be stilled by the knowledge that there was nothing he could do.

Since Severus had threatened to give the mirror and the box to Albus Dumbledore for safekeeping if Harry tried to mess with them, Harry remained silent about his urges.

Harry tore his gaze from the mirror and looked down at his homework. With a resigned sigh, he began to make a list of all the ingredients he was familiar with while skipping over those he did not recognize.

* * *

Harry ran through a valley of tall, golden grasses. At the end of it was a small range of brown foothills. Unlike the dream of Severus' ghost trial, Harry understood this was a dream and nothing was real. He seemed to fly over the ground, the grass a golden blur with the tallest of the strands whipping at his face and arms. A black figure, graceful and elegant, darted all around him. 

"Come on, Sweetie." The figure, a little girl about eight years with an open expression of cheerful curiosity and her glossy black hair tied in two bouncing ponytails on either side of her head, urged him onward with a tender voice. "Just four more hours of running, then we can stop by at Grandfather's and have breakfast."

One part of Harry's mind said, _FOUR more hours? I'll collapse and die!_ Another part of his brain chanted (more or less) _Food food food food food food food food food_ . . .

They continued to run all with the little girl moving at a much higher speed than Harry. She would speed ahead of Harry, dash around in a circle, run around him multiple times, and then beside him before repeating again. Little after-images were the only clue to her passing. After that first sentence, she never spoke directly to Harry, except when he stumbled and quickly regained his balance. "You all right?"

The part of Harry that held a mantra of food answered, "I'm fine, Mom."

The part of Harry that didn't understand how he could be running like this, much less for four hours, stuttered over the mental roadblock. This was his body; it felt the same (well, it did have an overabundance of energy, but he supposed that was apart of the dream in being able to run this fast for so long) and his voice sounded the same as well. But Mom? Why _Mom_ though? That did not sound right! And his mother did not look like this either. _His_ mother had red hair and green eyes and was certainly taller than a eight-year-old girl! Yet when he called her Mom, he felt a warmth fill himself just like it did every time someone spoke kindly of Lily Potter.

Ah, but this was just a dream.

Right?

_Hey, you, I didn't say you could come in! Get the hell out! _

WHAM!

"Ach!" Harry bolted upright in bed, one hand clamped over his chest as his heart pounded rapidly beneath his ribcage. His head throbbed as if someone had kicked him in the temples, which was precisely what happened in the dream. Severus, who sat beside the window with _The Daily Prophet_ spread out before him on the floor as moonlight filtered through his transparent self, looked up with a brief flash of concern. Harry ignored his uncle. Unbidden, his eyes followed the pleading he felt within his very bones and focused intently upon the Mirror of Rebounds.

"Harry." Severus' voice held a warning that clearly stated Harry tread upon unstable ground. Harry tore his gaze from the mirror.

"I got booted out of my own head," Harry said as he tried to ignore the urgency.

Severus' eyebrow arched high. Harry often wondered how anyone could make one eyebrow go up without the other moving. "Really? By what?"

"Myself."

There was a long pause, and then the newspaper Severus was reading rustled as he turned one of the pages. "Go to sleep," he said gruffly. "And next time, perhaps you will heed my advice and not eat pickles before going to bed."

The week after that passed without too many events or any dreams. By that time, Harry was settled in the schedule Severus created so Harry would be too busy to fall into the state of depression he had been going through since Cedric's death. Every morning, from seven until eight, Severus would spread Harry's books before him and lecture on multiple subjects. Harry did not mind the schooling in the least. Severus was determined that Harry would be well-prepared for his OWLs, and Harry liked how Severus would bring in Francis and Pandora Potter's discoveries, experiments, and theories into the lectures. Sometimes Severus would go off on a tangent of some piece of family history, which Harry enjoyed even more, and not because it meant studying never happened.

At eight, Severus would watch Harry and Aunt Petunia prepare breakfast in silence. He floated beside the window just out of view from anyone who would chance to peek inside. Breakfast was eaten amidst quiet conversation between the Dursleys, who figured that the best way to react to Severus Snape was to pretend he didn't exist. Breakfast usually ended at half after eight, and then Severus would hide within the depths of the baseball cap Harry wore when he worked in Aunt Petunia's garden where he watered, weeded, cut, fertilized, thinned plants, and mulched leftovers until noon. They had lunch, and then Severus would allow Harry to do whatever he wanted until it came time to help Aunt Petunia prepare dinner. As soon as dishes were taken care of, which was roughly about eight, Harry would join Dudley on his forced-hourly run because Severus said jogging was a good way for him to keep in shape for Quidditch and even help him outrun Death Eaters. "They're the most out-of-shape slobs you'll ever meet, boy." The run finished at half past eight, and then Severus would coach Harry in the Dark Arts.

"You have to do what you have to do," he said. "I'll not have Pandora Potter's great-grandson or James Potter's son ignorant of such matters, especially with Voldemort after your hide." The lessons usually ended between nine and ten, and then Severus had to bully Harry to bed when Harry did not feel like sleeping.

Weekends were free after Severus left in the late afternoon of Saturday and returned early evening on Sunday. He never mentioned where he went or what he did aside from informing Harry whose weekend it had been to haunt. To make sure that Harry did nothing particularly dangerous when he was gone, Severus had given Harry a notepad and told him to keep a very careful track of his time and what he did.

Severus would scrutinize this carefully when he returned from his haunting. He never said anything about what Harry did, but Harry could feel Severus' worry for his emotional state dissipate little by little every day. "After all," Severus had grumbled on Thursday after Harry finished crawling under his bedcovers for the night, "we don't want you to be as unstable as that madman of a godfather." There was nothing biting about his words. Harry decided that Severus insulted Sirius because it came as a second nature.

Holidays were an interesting matter for Harry. It seemed to him that the more time passed, and the more emotionally stable he became, the more holidays Severus would find haunt Sirius. There was something almost suspicious about the gleefulness in which Severus would set off, but Harry refused to dwell on the matter.

With such a rigid schedule to keep, Harry was often too busy to think of the Mirror of Rebounds. Severus rarely said anything about it, so his undying curiosity about it never wavered. He was all too aware of it when he was in his room, but that was where his interest only came back.

And then came another dream…

* * *

Fog. Harry was surrounded by fog. He looked down at his feet and saw them disappear in the impregnable thick depths of the wispy fog. It was white above him; a soft, tender glow of light that was easy on the eyes. Harry turned slowly around in a circle, wondering what sort of dream he was having this time. 

"They've been getting stranger ever since Uncle Severus came," he said worriedly. He made a mental note to tell Severus this. He began to walk in a random direction. Whatever he walked on was bouncy and added a spring to his steps. He walked in a straight line or in a circle. It was impossible to tell which direction he was heading because everything looked exactly alike, but he felt as if he should move.

"James?" a faint voice called. Harry froze at it. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "James?" Harry looked around. The voice came from everywhere because of how the sound rose and fell in gentle waves, and yet nowhere because Harry could not pinpoint where the sound originated. "James? Is that you?" Harry turned around in a full circle. "My dear, dear boy!" Harry sighed and spread his hands.

"I am Harry. My father was named James."

There was a long pause. "James?" The voice was clearer now, a deep female tone.

"No. Harry."

The fog shifted slightly, and Harry thought he saw a splash of black appear momentarily. "James?" The inquiring tone the voice had been speaking with turned to despair. The woman began to weep. "Where is James? I look and I look, but I can't find him! He's the only one who's still unaccounted for. What happened to my family?" The weepiness turned into sternness. "James - answer me this moment, young man!"

Harry located the direction of the sound and ran towards it. "James is dead!" he called out.

A shattered scream of agony was his only reply. Harry stumbled away from the sound. "No! Why God, why is everyone is dead or gone? James! Come back to me! Francis? Oliver, Edwina, Anastasia? Why will none of you answer?" The words broke into sobs. Harry took one tentative step forward, batting at the fog.

"Grandmother?" he called softly. "Grandmother Pandora?"

"Lost, lost, lost. All lost for one man's greed and the need to dominate. _Damn you Tom Riddle! Give me back my family you selfish bastard!"_

Harry stared in the direction the voice seemed to be coming from. He hesitated a moment longer, then began to walk in the direction again. He wanted to comfort the woman who was crying. "All is not lost," he said. "I'm here, and Uncle Severus is with me."

"I have nothing left," the voice said sadly, ignoring Harry. The fog before him parted and he saw a woman with black hair seated on large rock. It jutted from the thick fog, sharp and jagged, a mixture of mottled gray and brown. "Doomed. The world is doomed and any who could have stopped Voldemort are dead." The rock cracked then and a chip fell away. Harry squinted at the stone and made out weatherworn words that read, _Hope_.

Harry knew there was a significant symbol here. "I'm here," he said again softly, reaching out to touch the woman on the shoulder. She fell backwards and her body dissolved in dust. Beneath her, the rock exploded.

* * *

Harry sat upright in bed, clutching his chest once more. Severus merely rolled his eyes at the sight. "Do you have nightmares often?" he asked from where he was seated at the foot of the bed and reading Harry's volume of _History of Magic_. 

"Not like that one," Harry mumbled as he threw his covers back and swung his feet off the bed.

"What was it about?"

Harry slumped forward and put his face in his hands. "Shattered hope," he said softly. "And someone who longs for her family." He stood up and stumbled across the bedroom floor to the doorway. He stared hungrily at the Mirror of Rebounds for a long moment before he turned from it and reached out to the doorknob. Harry felt desperate to escape his curiosity and need to examine the Mirror of Rebounds. "I'm hungry," he said as he opened to the door. It was more of an excuse to flee from his bedroom than anything else. Severus did not seem to notice.

"No pickles," Severus said as he went back to reading.

* * *

When the sun rose that morning, it found Harry seated cross-legged on his bed. Severus was gone again, off to haunt Sirius. "It's a holiday!" the ghost had crowed happily. When Harry had inquired as to what sort of holiday it was, Severus replied offhandedly of how the natives of the ancient Aztec civilizations would be celebrating their Sun God day on this day thousands of years ago. Harry rolled his eyes at the answer as his uncle left. Harry secretly believed Severus made up half the holidays he haunted Sirius on. _I'm fairly sure the Australian Aborigines did _not_ have a fertility holiday for kangaroos,_ Harry thought to himself as he watched Severus float away. 

Not that Harry was complaining at the moment. With Severus gone, he could stare at the Mirror of Rebounds to his heart's desire and not rouse suspicion. Staring, however, was hardly what Harry wanted to do with the mirror. He wanted to caress its woodwork, breathe upon the glass, gaze into its depths, and know what it would show him.

Why this attraction to the Mirror of Rebounds? If asked, Harry would have admitted he had been curious about the mirror since he had first saw it. It called to him, a low hum that vibrated his bones and filled his soul with a longing. It showed everything so long as it happened. Maybe it could show him the meaning of the dreams he had been experiencing lately. Maybe this need physiologically manifested itself as the odd dreams.

Then, too, there was the face that Harry had first seen in the Mirror of Rebounds, before he read Severus' letter. That was a question left unanswered, a mystery that cried out for a solution.

He strode purposefully over to the mirror and stopped before it. The humming grew stronger. He reached one shaking finger out and touched the surface of the mirror before being hurriedly snatching his hand back in the same manner as if he had brushed against a hot iron.

Harry waited a moment, but nothing happened. Again the finger reached out, but instead of snatching backwards again, he let it linger against the cool glass. Harry released the breath of air he had unknowingly held, then picked the mirror up.

He cradled it close to his chest as he went back to his bed and sat down. He gently sat the mirror on a pillow and gazed into it. "You can come out now," he said to the secrets and answers the mirror held. Nothing happened. Harry felt the curiosity within himself ease. At the moment, he was satisfied to only look at the mirror. _Perhaps if I wait long enough an answer will appear._

It did, though actually four answers would be more precise.

"Harry," Severus drifted through the wall, "do you know where I can-" He stopped when he saw the Mirror of Rebounds, and the look on his face was chilling enough to plummet the room temperatures into those of the Hogwarts' dungeons. Harry stared guiltily, cradling the mirror protectively. "_What_ do you think you are doing with that?"

A face appeared in the mirror, unnoticed by either the nephew or the uncle. It looked around for a moment, grinned, and laughed exuberantly. "At last!" An identical face appeared beside the first.

"Civilization!"

Severus froze at the voices and Harry shoved the mirror away from his body.

"It's about time someone acknowledged us," the first face said. It disappeared, and then the upper half of a woman appeared across the room in Harry's wall mirror. She had black hair and eyes the color of turquoise. "It's rather crowded in there, what with the family being in it." She raised one hand and flapped it loosely, as if to shoo away a fly. "No privacy whatsoever."

The second face disappeared from the Mirror of Rebound's surface, and another woman appeared in Harry's mirror, identical to the first. "What took you people so long in realizing where we actually were? Honestly!" She turned to the first woman. "I told you that someone was out there. Didn't I say so?"

Severus and Harry gaped in astonishment at the women. One of them turned around and began to inspect her surroundings within the mirror as the other surveyed the surroundings outside the mirror.

"Bah, this place is horrible. Nothing at all like our frames," the first woman said.

"Dinsmore sure has changed, but I suppose it must be from the damage that fire caused; Mum never did have a good sense of style. That was why we were in the mirror, because our frames were burning." The second woman gave Harry and Severus a warm smile. "Mum didn't mind us visiting her all the time before when she was working in her bedroom, and it was the only place that seemed safe because, well, it wasn't getting burned. Although I think I would have burned rather than wait who knows _how_ many years before anyone took notice of us." She frowned. "Mum wouldn't have waited that long, so we figured that the fire was really, really bad, and the Mirror of Rebounds was forgotten in the need to repair the fire's damage."

They scowled pointedly at Severus and Harry. _This is, after all, your entire fault;_ their expression seemed to say. "So," said one of the women. "Where's Mum?"

Harry turned to Severus. "Do you know them?" he asked.

Severus snapped his mouth shut. He glared balefully at the two women and studied them for a long moment. "Harry," he said almost casually as he folded his arms before himself, "meet your great-aunts, Edwina and Anastasia."

Harry turned back to the women. "You're kidding!"

The women looked astonished themselves. And delighted, if the way their hands flew to their faces and hair to preen was any clue. "Harry?"

"Great aunts?"

The two women leaned forward and squinted at Harry. "He's got Lily's eyes," whispered one loudly behind her hand.

"But he's not as tall as little Jimmy."

"Not that James was little."

The twins grinned at Harry before they looked at Severus. Their smiles disappeared into frowns. "He doesn't look good." Again the loud whisper behind the hand.

"Must have been sick."

"If he was sick, it really wasted him away into nothing. I can almost see right through him – oh! I _can_ see right through him!"

They stared in shock at Severus before another figure appeared behind them. "I say, living beings! Wow!" Swarthy and dashingly handsome, the man who appeared squeezed himself between the twins to look at the people before him. "I had almost forgotten what it is like to gaze upon something alive." He looked around at the twins. "By the by, is it just me, or is it slightly crowded in here?"

Another man, with shoulder-length black hair and dark blue eyes, materialized upside down, his hair almost brushing the tops of the twins' heads. "I would say it is crowded," he said softly as he peered over the frame's edge, "but anything is better than listening to Aunt Peggy list the many health problems she had before she died."

The other man nodded thoughtfully. "It is almost tempting to kill that woman, except she is only a portrait, so it makes that option rather silly. Well, so are we, but portraits can't kill portraits."

One of the twins pointed at Severus. She looked close to tears. "Our little snapdragon is dead!"

"Oh." The first man's face fell. "I spoke too soon of seeing someone alive."

At that, the others fell silent. Under the mirror's occupants' fierce scrutinize, Severus wiggled uncomfortably. He looked torn between running away to haunt Sirius again, and in greeting the family once more. He decided the latter was the informing, though hardly the safest. "As surprised as I am to find the family currently haunting Harry's mirror, there are some very important details we must share."

"Such as why you are dead?"

"Yes, Aunt Edwina."

"I'm Anastasia."

The upside-down man shook his head. "No, you're not, Edwina. Don't be confusing Sev since he got your name right the first time around."

She pouted. "Oliver, don't you have afternoon tea to take with Great-grandmother Mabel?"

"She'll survive if I miss it."

Severus remained silent. He crossed his hands behind his back and glowered at them, resuming his intimidating Potions Master role. Harry found himself slowly edging away from his uncle. After a few moments of bickering, the twins and Oliver focused their attention on Severus.

"Much has happened since the burning of Dinsmore, and even some things happened before then that you all should be aware of," he began. "But before I begin, I would also like Francis and Pandora to be present. Where are they?"

Edwina's lower lip trembled and Oliver dropped his eyes. Severus Snape the elder looked away. Severus stared expectedly at Anastasia, who was the only one still maintain eye contact.

"They didn't get out in time," Anastasia said finally. "Father didn't even _have_ time to get out. Tom Riddle was there with this burning brand, and he told Father that he, Tom Riddle, had just been betrayed by the one person he had continued to trust all. He said he had never lied to Mum, had never broken a secret, gave her favors that no one else would have ever received, and in the end, was betrayed." She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes. "Tom Riddle said that so long as Francis Potter always existed, then so would Pandora Potter belong to no one other than the dead, and so be it. Then he threw the fire at Father's frame and it burst into flame, and Father…" She turned away, unable to finish.

Severus Snape the elder wrapped his arms around her and she cried into his shoulder as he continued the explanation, his voice bitter and his expression dark. "Francis was burned almost immediately along with his portrait. He could not escape the flames, and from there, Tom Riddle spread the fire throughout the entire building, burning those portraits within reach. Countless generations were destroyed. As he swept through Dinsmore, he repeated that shattered trust could never be mended, thus Pandora was to lose all that he had protected. After a few hallways, he threw away the burning brand and began to toss magic about. Those of us who knew how to jump from the portraits to the Mirror of Rebounds did. Only the strongest of us made it, since it had been carried away from Dinsmore and it was a long jump. Pandora would have known if we were in the mirror or not, so we waited for her to activate it. No one did, except for that one time where a surge of power knocked us into the deeper recesses of it, and now."

"So you have all been waiting until someone used the mirror?" Severus Snape the ghost asked.

Severus Snape the elder shook his head. "We were waiting until we sensed Pandora's presence. But she never came, and so we spent a great deal of our time within the deeper recesses of the mirror. We thought that with so much damage and with Tom Riddle in such a mood, Pandora would not have the time to use the Mirror of Rebounds."

Anastasia twisted away from Severus Snape the elder. "Where is Mum?" she asked. She looked around hopefully and the others caught on to her mood. Edwina and Oliver both smiled, ready to see their mother walk into the room and greet them.

Harry and Severus were quiet. They began to eye one another, secretly challenging the other to tell the family of Pandora's fate.

"You," Harry whispered as he pointed at Severus, "you're the only living-er, the only person who can give an eyewitness account."

"I was the bearer of bad news last time!"

"Well," Oliver cut in, "_someone_ clue us something."

Severus and Harry glared at one another for a few more moments. Harry was the first to look away. "Pandora Potter is dead," he said stoically.

The portraits stared at them blankly. Severus Snape the elder spoke, a little too calmly. "And how did she die?"

"We're not sure."

"Did you see her body?"

"Look, I was only a year old when she disappeared, and even if I had been aware of what was going on, then I would have been too preoccupied with my own parents having just died to pay attention." Harry's sulky words created a reaction neither he nor Severus expected. The twins listlessly sank downward until only the top of their heads could be seen in the mirror, Oliver's eyes grew very dark with a sad thoughtfulness and Severus Snape the elder crossed his arms before himself as his shoulders slouched forward. Harry would have expected them to explode with denials, protests, or, in the very least, questions.

This sad silence was not something he had expected, and seeing their hopeful buoyancy so brutally destroyed in the light of the Potter family disaster, Harry felt the cold ball of depression in his chest swell. He turned to Severus. "I think you better tell them what happened and not me, since I couldn't answer any questions." Severus nodded once, and Harry sat down on his bed to listen to what he had already read in Severus' letter. 


	2. Chapter 2

No one said anything when Severus finally finished. He had left out only a few things, such as his haunting other people, his being a spy for James, the overall activity as a Death Eater, and what he had seen of Voldemort in the Mirror of Rebounds. Harry was sprawled across his bed with his feet hanging over one side while one hand was tucked under his neck to support his head. Oliver Potter, in Harry's upside-down vision, was quiet and thoughtful. Of the twins he could only see the tops of their heads. However, like his uncle, Harry focused most of his attention on Severus the elder.

While Severus the ghost had explained (rather briefly) of the last time he saw Pandora, and what the Mirror of Rebounds had shown him of James' and Lily's fates, Severus the elder remained silent. When Severus finished, Oliver stirred momentarily. He blinked away from Harry's mirror back into the Mirror of Rebounds. Harry saw a fleeting shadow resembling the lithe young man in the murky dark glass. He flipped onto his stomach and gazed into the depths, captivated by the gentle hum he felt it casting. He allowed it to sweep over him and felt comforted by how it lulled him into a floating sense of nothingness.

"What," said Severus the ghost in an uncertain tone, "did Pandora mean by her mother's family? And what did she mean by jump? She did not Apparate, but used some other sort of magic."

"I was painted when I was twenty-seven," Severus the elder said. "When I thirty-two, I met Rhianon Lilwen. I married her two years later. Now, I do not have any memory of Rhianon other than a few passing times I saw her and what the other portraits would gossip of. To me, she was a very quiet, very serene woman with extremely pale features. She loved music, and she played the flute exquisitely. I cannot speak for the real me, but I personally found her to be lacking in personality. The only unusual thing about her was she sat in the sun and brushed her hair endlessly. When Pandora was born, Rhianon carried her out into the sun and brushed _her_ hair endlessly all the time too. However, the real me knew her better than I did and must have found something within her that made her wonderful enough to marry.

"Pandora's portrait did not escape Riddle's destruction, I'm sorry to say. Otherwise she would be here and could answer these questions of Rhianon. But now that I think of it, there _was_ something otherworldly about Rhianon; something elegant, graceful, and noble."

Severus Snape the ghost frowned thoughtfully. "She said no one, not even Voldemort, could enter this place she was jumping for. If no one from that side caught her, she would be killed. When she jumped, she faded away, as if out of existence. Do you know if Rhianon had some capabilities of healing?"

"Not that I know of. Hell, I don't even remember if this Rhianon was a witch or not!" Severus the elder nudged one of his granddaughters. "Edwina, what do you know of your grandmother?"

From where she was seated with only the top of her head in view, Edwina stirred slightly. "Only what Mum told us," Edwina said. "Grandmother Rhianon was a kind, quiet woman who loved to play music, swim, and brush hair in the sunshine."

"There is a clue in there," Severus the ghost said as he began to pace the room. "If she's otherworldly and she fits that description well, then Rhianon Lilwen-Snape must not have been human." He frowned. "Was she familiar with magic? If you don't remember if she was a witch, then did that mean she was a Muggle or nonhuman?"

Severus Snape the elder lifted one shoulder in a precarious shrug. "I don't know why I would marry a Muggle. I suppose I would if I loved her, but I think I'd have rather taken her as a mistress instead. I remember thinking that one of the reasons why I got my portrait painted was to allow inspection of a potential bride."

Severus Snape the ghost stopped his pacing and glanced over at Harry. "Harry, did you - Harry?"

Harry did not hear his uncle. He saw something in the dark depths of the Mirror of Rebounds, something that was not a portrait. It was a dark outline of something that weaved and jerked ungracefully, helter-skelter and off-balanced. He was mentally trying to force the outline into something more distinct. Even if he wanted to withdraw his attention from the Mirror of Rebounds, the floating sense of nothingness he was caught in would not allow movement.

He was abruptly snatched out of the sense though when Severus the ghost hasty grabbed the mirror and held it aloft.

"This mirror is hypnotizing you for whatever reason, Harry!" Severus snapped. "I'm taking it to Albus!" He whirled around and flew to the open window with every intention of leaving.

"No." Severus the elder did not raise his voice, but the force of command behind the word forced Severus the ghost to stop before he exited the window. With stiff dignity, Severus the ghost slowly drifted around to face his adopted great-grandfather. Edwina and Anastasia stood to get a better view of the situation. "The mirror stays here. If there is something that seems to draw Harry in, I believe we should let him learn what it is. For all we know, it could be the only way Pandora has to communicate with us."

Harry, with a shocking clarity, suddenly recalled the dream he had of Pandora seated upon a crumbling rock of hope.

Oliver appeared upside down in Harry's mirror once more. "I would just like to add: I hardly think the seventeen other family members within the mirror will be too happy to learn they have been abruptly left at Hogwarts."

"Why not?" Severus the ghost grumbled. "It's almost their second home."

"But we want to be with family!" Edwina cried. "We don't all have to stay in little Harry's mirror! I'm sure there are other mirrors and maybe some paintings and photographs throughout this place we may dwell in. Aren't there?" Her sister vigorously nodded her head in agreement.

"Which seventeen family members are they?"

"Well, there's your aunts Peggy, Georgina, Celeste, Mercia; grandmothers Mabel, Unique, Fiona; grandfathers Julius, Sylvester, Dominic, Indigo, Pierce; uncles Oscar, Costello, Ulysses, Patrick; oh, and cousin Quigley."

Harry watched as Severus contemplated her words. "Cousin Quigley? Quaffing Quigley?" Edwina made a face at the name. Severus the ghost smiled. It was a deviant and wicked smile that foretold someone was going to find him- or herself invariably suckered. Harry quelled the urge to hide beneath his bed. "Very well," Severus the ghost said in an oily voice, "I imagine it would be best for family to be with family." He looked at the mirror. "Will they come out?"

"Yes," Anastasia said. "But only to something that is not crowded."

"I shall show them around." Severus the ghost opened Harry's bedroom door and floated through. Harry suddenly found himself center of his relatives' attention.

"So," Oliver said nervously to Harry, "how has your life been - living here with your Muggle relations, that is?"

* * *

The family quickly settled into a regular life outside the mirror. They now had separate places to go to, from mirror to still-life to photograph. Most of the relatives had lived back in the sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth centuries, though Grandfather Indigo had lived in the twelfth century and his disdain for women in general showed it. The relatives filled the interior of the Dursley household with questions on technology and Muggle livelihoods. For the Dursleys, it was just one more straw to the camel's back.

As Harry watched Dudley stare in shock at Edwina and Anastasia as they lectured him on the beauty of the slim human body, he could hear Aunt Petunia crying softly as she obeyed the stern orders of no-nonsense Grandmother Fiona. Grandmother Fiona settled in the mirror perched above the stove and directed Aunt Petunia in how to cook the "proper way for a matron." Harry thought it all amusing to see the Dursleys eventually grow used to having portraits hog the mirrors and pictures to themselves.

Of course, even he admitted it would take a great deal of effort to get used to the idea that Great-Grandmother Mabel had commandeered the bathroom mirror all for herself and refused to budge from it at any given time. Great-Grandmother Mabel was satisfied with sitting in her rocking chair, always sewing or brewing potions. Throughout the entire day and night, there would be two or more other relatives visiting with her for tea, or perhaps some piece of stray news picked up from listening to what was said on what was thought to be the niftiest of all Muggle creations – the television. Be that as it may, this meant there was no privacy to be had in the upstairs loo. The mirror had a lived-in look now, due to the curtains draped over one side and the pot of flowers at the other.

Perhaps the most interesting ancestor was Cousin Quigley – or, as the others nicknamed him, "Quaffing" Quigley. Cousin Quigley was the son of Uncle Sylvester and a Malfoy woman named Jynx. He loved a great deal of things; the television, the lights, the running water, watching Harry do his homework, telling tales. He tried to give all these things hugs, or at least praised their value in a very loud voice. However, the one thing he loved most was alcohol. Be it wine, whiskey, or beer, he loved to drink. Which is why he usually tended to praise things in a very loud voice.

The first time Harry had seen Cousin Quigley, the relatively young man was hiccupping and weaved drunkenly through the cubist painting hanging in the Dursley pantry. This painting was made up of different geometrical shapes painted in very bright neon colors, and Cousin Quigley, about as tall as pencil, either tripped over them or bobbed around them. His face was red with drink and he sang a bawdy song that would have made Aunt Petunia blush in shock had she been in hearing.

"Ahh! Coushin Hawwy!" Cousin Quigley stopped when he saw Harry staring at him with wide eyes. He almost fell over backwards and was saved by pin wheeling his arms wildly about until he regained his balance. "'Tish a (_hic_) good day! Yesh, a good day indeed! (_hic_) Shewwy?" He waved his wand and almost fell over forward as a bottle of sherry materialized in his hand. He stumbled, straightened, and then held the bottle out to Harry as an offer.

"No, thank you," Harry hastened to say. "I'm under age."

"Nonshenshe (_hic_)." Cousin Quigley waved Harry's protest away and had to lean against a giant neon-green triangle to keep from falling over sideways. "If you ish tall enuff to shee (_hic_) over da bawr, then you ish old enuff to dwink! Ha!" He threw his arms wide and fell flat on his face. His bottle broke and he burst into tears at the sight of it. "What a losh! (_hic_ _hic_) What a losh!"

Harry began to edge away from the painting. "You're a little drunk," he said. "We should try talking when you're sober, you know?"

" 'm not!" The tears turned into defiance. "I shwear to drunk I'm not God! Wait…" He tried to sort through what he just said, but decided it was too much work to think. He summoned a keg of beer instead. "There'sh enuff hewe fowe all of (_hic_) ush!" He stood up and marched off to find more family as he rolled the keg before him. Twice he tripped and fell over the keg before he managed to get out of the painting.

The Dursleys' reaction had been predictable enough upon learning of their new household residents. Aunt Petunia fainted, Dudley sighed, and Uncle Vernon started to yell at Harry but stopped when Severus the ghost appeared before him with a steaming cauldron in his hand. Over time, they had eventually decided it was easier to ignore Severus than to try and reason with him. They would do the same to the portraits.

Two weeks came and went as the portraits settled down to living a life in a Muggle household. Harry wrote letters to Albus Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione, informing them his relatives (which included Severus Snape the Potions Master) now lived with him. Dumbledore, rather than writing back, appeared on the Dursleys' door one early morning with McGonagall at his heel. He offered the portraits a chance to stay at Hogwarts, but they refused. Everyone one of them wanted to stay with living family, which consisted of Harry and Severus, lumped together by default. Dumbledore, however, did not want to portraits to stay at the Dursleys. He said it was perhaps too much for the Muggles to handle.

A compromise was finally agreed on. The Snapes would go with Harry to Hogwarts when school started and Dumbledore would see Dinsmore rebuilt. When it was finished, Harry and his relations could move into it with Remus as the property caretaker.

Of the letters he wrote to his friends, Hermione's was the first to arrive, just two short days after Dumbledore's visit. As Severus the elder and Oliver sat in Harry's bedroom mirror and discussed current politics within the Ministry of Magic, Harry laid down upon his bed and read Hermione's letter.

_Dear Harry _

_ Wow! I've read that portraits cannot exist for long outside of their original frames, but I guess there are always exceptions to the rule. Maybe it's because of your mirror? I didn't know that Professor Snape was dead, and the idea that he is your uncle is sort of startling. It doesn't make sense that he'd be so cruel to you. I can understand that he was forbidden by the Ministry of Magic to actually befriend you, but it might have been better if he had out and out ignored you, rather than go out of his way to be unpleasant. _

_ Isn't it amazing that your relatives are so old? They can tell you lots of things about what the wizarding world was like two or three centuries back! That would really help with the History of Magic class, and maybe you could do a special extra-credit paper about the differences. It never hurts to have extra credit, especially with the OWLs being this year. _

_ If Professor Snape is your uncle and is haunting the Dursleys' toaster oven, couldn't he help you with your Potions homework? _

Harry rolled his eyes, recalling how he had managed to move up from an F to an A , thanks to trial and error with his homework. Great-Grandmother Mabel, when asked, had rattled off a list of the things Harry's list of ingredients did, but Harry refused to seek any more help than that. Harry found it odd how Severus the ghost would readily help Harry in all his subjects but Potions. Should Severus learn that Harry had sought help (even if it was from a relative) in his homework more than what he had the right to, he would be upset. As far as Harry was concerned, an angry poltergeist was a Very Bad Thing.

_You have been studying, right? And if you haven't before, then you should, now that you have two-dozen fully-grown and fully trained witches and wizards living in your house to help you. I wish I could have relatives like that. _

_ What time are you going to visit Diagon Alley for your supplies? My parents and I are going August fifteenth. Do you suppose we could meet up with one another? _

_ Love Hermione _

Harry sighed as he folded the letter. He looked forward to attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but found he was uncomfortable with knowing he was to be the only student whose family had come along. On the other hand, he considered bemusedly, considering his record for getting into trouble, they may just help him stay out of it.

He pulled out a fresh parchment of paper. Over in his mirror, Severus the elder and Oliver had gone from discussing the Ministry of Magic to speaking of their distant relatives, the Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy had just recently requested demanded the skills of a Charms Master for the sake of performing the very complex anti-ghost charm. Back in Severus the elder's day, it had been a matter of both style and honor to allow ghosts to haunt homes. A ghost for a very old magical family was in the same comparison as a house elf to a very poor magical family. It was considered somewhat elite. After all, a portrait was good and well, a tradition started to carry on advice of dead relatives and even solve heredity disputes after the painting's subject's death, but a ghost was part and partial to its entire life. A portrait only possessed all that it had up to the moment when it was created.

Harry tuned the conversation out and wrote a reply to Hermione.

_ Dear Hermione _

_You will have a chance to see my relatives. Headmaster Dumbledore doesn't want them staying with the Dursleys so they'll be coming with me to Hogwarts. Dumbledore says the Snapes may be too much for the Dursleys. He has a point. We have a black and white photograph in the living room of a bottle of wine sitting next to a napkin and a branch of grapes. Cousin Quigley (who is _

Harry stopped writing and turned to his mirror. "Grandfathers?" he began. Severus and Oliver stopped speaking and focused their attention on Harry. "How do you spell intoxicated?" Oliver told him and then he and Severus the elder continued their conversation while Harry continued his letter.

_ intoxicated all the time) tried to drag the bottle of wine off, and even if it wasn't twice as big as him and he could have moved it, he was too drunk to do anything but hiccup and lean against it, crying about how it was being wasted and what a loss that was. Of course, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were trying to entertain company at the time. Most of the family is pretty good at staying out of sight when other Muggles are in the house but Cousin Quigley is usually too drunk to do so. _

_ Dumbledore says they can stay at Hogwarts when I go to school. He's going to have my great-grandmother's home rebuilt (Voldemort burned it down on the eve of my parents' death), and after fifth year is finished, we're going to move into it with Remus as a caretaker. I think I will enjoy it, since Uncle Severus says Dinsmore isn't too far from the Burrow. I'll be able to see Ron more! _

_ I _have_ been working on my homework, and I _have_ been asking help from my relatives. My relatives supply lots of things they know, but Uncle Severus has been helping me ever since he first came. _

_ I am not going to ask Uncle Severus for his help in Potions though. He corrects my homework, but doesn't tell me where I go wrong. He says that would be showing favoritism and I should already know what I am doing since this was all in last year's lectures. That only works in theory, since I spent a great deal of my time trying to avoid being killed. I know I still should have studied. I instead asked Great-Grandmother Mabel for her help, since she's a potions brewer. She's not a master nor has she a teaching degree in it, but she was painted in her late fifties and so has a lot of experience in brewing them. Don't tell Uncle Severus I said that though, since he would get angry. _

_ I don't know when I will visit Diagon Alley for my supplies, but if I can do it August fifteenth, I will let you know so we can meet up somewhere. _

_ Harry _

He finished writing the letter, folded the parchment, and stuck his head out the window to see where Hedwig was. She had left earlier that morning to do some hunting and had not come back. After a moment, he pulled through the window again and set the roll of parchment to the side.

A few days later, the ever-hyper Pig delivered Ron's letter. Pig flew in through Harry's window, smacked headlong into Harry's mirror where the twins were telling Harry of James and Sirius in their adolescence, and fluttered to the floor with a pained hoot. Harry rushed forward to see if the little owl was hurt as the twins peered at it in surprise.

As Harry picked Pig up, the owl stirred and jumped around excitedly. Harry, amidst the hooting, pecking, and wiggling tuff of feathers, undid the letter from Pig's leg. He set Pig inside of Hedwig's cage and gave him an owl treat to munch on.

The twins bounced excitedly in the mirror. "What does it say? What does it say?"

Harry laughed as he unrolled it. "It's a letter from my best friend," he said looking at the letters. The size of the sloppy writing practically leapt off the page at him.

_YOU'RE RELATED TO THAT GREASY POTIONS PROFESSOR?!!!!!! _

Harry winced and rubbed his eyes. The twins gazed at him expectedly. Harry smiled at them nervously. "He's surprised that I'm related to Uncle Severus," he said. Anastasia sniffed.

"Wait until he meets the rest of us then," she said. Harry went back to reading.

_Of all the people to be related to, why did it have to be HIM? But then you did say he was adopted off the streets. His real parents must have taken one look at him and dumped him on the nearest doorstep. _

Harry did not know whether to laugh at his friend's jibe, or to cry as he remembered the description of the slums Severus spent his earliest years in. He decided to ignore it for now.

_ You-Know-Who killed him? And he's haunting him, Sirius, _and_ Malfoy? Jeese, what a schedule to keep. He isn't bothering you too much, is he? Dad says that it's likely Professor Snape is going to stick with you for the rest of your lives. Is that greasy git going to teach Potions still? It was bad enough when he was alive, but I don't think I can possibly survive that class when he's a ghost. _

_ Can you come over for a week or two to the Burrow? Dad says he can Floo over for you, since he wants to see the portraits. He said that Anastasia and Edwina Snape used to baby-sit him all the time. He also said that, because he never got out much, they set him up on a blind date with Mum and that was how they met each other and got married! Wow! _

_ Ron _

Harry looked at the twins, who had gotten bored and were discussing the latest exploits of "Quaffing" Quigley.

"Did you two really baby-sit Authur Weasley and set him up with Molly?" Harry asked. The twins smiled brightly at him.

"Well," Edwina began, "you have to understand. Author was always a frumpy person too interested in Muggle things to really make many friends. Whenever I or Anastasia took him home with us to look after, he would get together with Mum or Dad's painting and speak with them about Muggles and their technology."

Anastasia cut in. "We decided that what Authur needed was someone who was too stubborn for him to say no to, someone who could take charge whenever he was distracted, yet was open-minded enough not to mind in the least. Well, beyond reason, that is."

Edwina grinned. "That was where Molly Sanders came in. She was looking for someone mild enough to put up with her, so we set her up with Authur."

"They made such a cute couple!" The twins sighed, their eyes bright with happy memories. Harry laughed and pulled out a roll of parchment to write Ron back with.

_Dear Ron _

_ I just got done speaking with Anastasia and Edwina, and they said that your father and mother made a cute couple. I would very much like to see Mr. Weasley come over and speak to them. About having to stay with you for a week or two, I will have to ask my Uncle Severus, relatives, and Dumbledore for permission. They don't like the idea of my roaming around where Voldemort could attack me. _

_ I think their fears are ill-founded, but they are my guardians and they do mean well. Which is just as well, since the twins (Anastasia and Edwina) and my grandfather Oliver were all killed by Voldemort. We're trying to figure out who my great-great-grandmother was, since my great-grandmother (Pandora) was last seen going to her mother's family. Trouble is, no one knows exactly where that is. All we have left is this odd box and a mirror._

Harry froze in his writing. Up until that moment, ever since he had been introduced to his family, he had stopped thinking of the Mirror of Rebounds. As if a switch had been thrown, the humming in his bones tuned to the mirror's call, Harry found himself gazing at where Severus the ghost had placed the Mirror of Rebounds on his dresser. Focused so intently upon the mirror, it was as if his entire world was centered upon the mirror itself. From a far-off distance, he heard someone calling his name, sounding frantic and worried. The voices trailed off and disappeared as the twins sought their brother and grandfather for help.

Something in the dark surface moved. It bobbed and weaved about drunkenly, much like Cousin Quigley did whenever he was sober enough to walk without pitching flat on his face. Harry squinted his eyes as the shape and leaned closer. He struggled to focus on the shape's outline.

"Harry." The deep voice of Severus Snape the elder held a tone that was the very reason behind his being the leader of the portraits. It was the voice of one who knew he held the most command and respect, and could effortlessly demand attention.

Harry ignored the voice. He could almost see the outline now as lines became sharper and colors differentiated. He could see it was a human, yet he did not think it could be Cousin Quigley. Light blue robes with a dark streak down the front swirled around a tall, lean frame. The upper part of the body was cast in shadow, but with each stumbling step forward, the further the shadows moved to reveal more.

"Harry."

Just a little more. Just a little more and Harry could finally see what the mirror was trying to tell him.

"Harry, if you do not respond to me, I shall have your Uncle Severus take the Mirror of Rebounds from you."

The shadows began to disperse as the figure stumbled and fell against what he could tell was a wall. Harry leaned forward a bit. He did not realize he was holding his breath in anticipation.

"That does it. Now, everyone, all together with me on three. One, two, three!"

"ACCIO MIRROR!"

The Mirror of Rebounds flew across the room and thumped against the mirror Severus the elder, the twins, Oliver, and Cousin Quigley were currently in. Everyone gazed at Harry with concern – everyone, that was, except Cousin Quigley, who leaned against the mirror's surface with his arms folded over the mirror's bottom frame. Harry slowly stirred from the enthrallment he had been trapped in and stared at his relatives in shock. He briefly wondered why on earth Cousin Quigley appeared so smug.

"You can do magic?" he asked finally.

Cousin Quigley stood up so fast the top of his head connected with Edwina's jaw. She stumbled back from him with her hand clamped over her jaw. She winced and glared at Cousin Quigley as a bottle of wine appeared in his hand. "A shelebration dwink!" He threw his arms wide and fell over backwards, off-balanced. The others ignored his drunken giggles and waving shoes, which had holes in the soles.

"When there are enough of us," Severus the elder said, "we can do minor spells that do not require a large amount of energy or magic. Harry..." He frowned in disapproval as he gazed solemnly at his descendant. "What is it about the Mirror of Rebounds that captivates and hypnotizes you so?"

Harry's gaze fell upon the mirror. Its call was silent. He felt only surprise as he looked at it. "I keep seeing someone in the mirror, and I think it is important." He gave his ancestors a desperate look. "I really don't know who it is or why I must know, but it calls to me, and all I can do is answer the call."

"Hmm." Severus the elder rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I don't want to take the mirror away from you, boy. I'm of a mind to teach you how to look into it, but I want Severus to be here when that happens." He frowned suddenly and looked around the room. "Which reminds me: where _is_ my namesake?"

Harry shrugged. "It's Voldemort's weekend."

"What can Severus do to such a powerful Dark Wizard?"

"I really don't know, but he had something to say of how he didn't spend years putting up with Sirius and my dad without learning some things."

* * *

Voldemort strode purposefully through the dank and musty halls of the Riddle mansion, a half dozen Death Eaters at his heels. He looked almost as human as he had been before Pandora's attack had shattered his control. But for the almond-shaped, snake-curving eyes and slits where his nose should have been, Voldemort was once again a shadow of his once-human self. He was twisted, dark, and completely unnatural, thanks to the sacrifices that multiple loyal Death Eaters granted him. If some people thought his power was weak after being broken and only his iron will was what kept it whole, such people were too tactful or otherwise too survival-driven to say anything.

As he swept into the dining room where candles were lit along the surface of the table, he heard a distressed hiss. He froze suddenly. The Death Eaters behind him tripped over each other to avoid crashing into him. "Nagini?" He looked around. To his ears, the hiss of his snake was a fraught call for help. Again the hiss. His eyes darted around the room as he tried to find where his snake was. When he heard Nagini hiss a third time, he glanced up at the large chandelier that hung above their heads.

Someone had tied Nagini in a bowtie around the chandelier. Her head hung mournfully as she hissed pitifully. A look of rage crossed Voldemort's face.

"SEVERUS!"


	3. Chapter 3

Upon learning how the Mirror of Rebounds had, once again, hypnotized Harry, it took a great deal of arguing to keep Severus the ghost from carting it directly to Dumbledore so the old wizard could place it securely under lock, key, and multiple charms.

"The problem is," Severus the elder said, his voice both commanding and diplomatic, "Harry doesn't know how to control it. Throughout the history of the Snapes, for as long as we had had the mirror - and for those of you lacking in knowledge of the family history," here he gave Harry a pointed look, "it was invented by Hyacinthe the Druid during the eighth century – as long as we have had the Mirror of Rebounds, the more powerful users have always been the ones drawn to it for any implicit reason. It calls to them. Harry's curiosity is not abnormal considering his Snape heritage. The mirror is especially attuned to the Snape blood. It's a family artifact and legend; one every family member is informed of, though hardly known outside the immediate family. We prefer to keep it that way, too."

Severus the elder paused a moment to catch his breath and to see how captivated his audience was. Harry watched him with wide-eyed fascination. Severus the ghost did the same, but tried to appear as if he listened out of boredom only. Severus the elder continued with his lesson. "Why is it called the Mirror of Rebounds? Can anyone inform me what the word, 'rebounds' mean?"

Harry raised his hand, but the others ignored him. He sighed and dropped it.

"Rebound," Severus the elder continued, "means to spring or to bounce back. It pertains to the ability to see everything _so long as it took place_ This is the key to its entire purpose, so I'll repeat it: _It sees everything so long as it happened. _This means the Mirror of Rebounds records history within its depths, and the right people may call upon those records. The mirror rifles through its records in an effort to find what a person seeks, and then replays that information if it exists. This could very well be the key to where Pandora went."

Harry's hand rose in the air again. The others continued to ignore him.

"I don't trust it!" Severus the ghost snapped. "What exactly is the extent of the mirror's abilities? I was not born into the family and I have never been attracted to it. Still, it showed me Pandora fading away and James' death." The others looked at him coolly. Severus the ghost drew his lips back from his teeth and snarled. "I also saw Voldemort in the mirror, and _he saw me too."_

Harry was the only one not surprised with this revelation, but the forcefulness in which Severus the ghost spoke did surprise him. Since Severus had never mentioned about the mirror when he explained the past, Severus the elder frowned. Severus the ghost flew over to the Mirror of Rebounds to point at the fine crack that ran across the mirror's surface. "When Voldemort saw me, I felt his anger at that moment and the glass cracked. How did that happen? Why did it show me these things if I supposedly do not have the ability to? I am a Snape through adoption, and therefore do not have this bloody blood ability."

The finger that rigidly pointed at the crack in the mirror's glass swiveled to point at Harry, who flinched. "Voldemort and Harry are connected through that scar of his. Somehow, when he managed to vanquish Voldemort at one year of age, doing what not even Pandora could succeed at, some of Voldemort's powers transferred to him. What if they are also connected through the mirror and Voldemort is trying to pull him through?"

"I hardly believe that is likely."

"Oh no?" Severus smiled cruelly. He turned to face Harry. "Tell them of Tom Riddle's diary and the Chamber of Secrets," he commanded.

Harry's stomach did a flip-flop as he remembered. "Tom Riddle encased his memories in a diary, and that was found by my best friend's little sister, Ginny Weasley. Tom Riddle used her to do all sorts of horrid things, and he pulled me into the diary several times. He was sixteen at the time, and I don't think he actually knew what he had turned into, unless he got that information from Ginny. Almost to the close of the school year, he was drawing so much energy from Ginny that he was becoming solid and real. He summoned and controlled a basilisk, and, well..." Harry shifted his gaze from the mirror where his relatives were over to Mirror of Rebounds which Severus floated beside. "Do I have to continue?" he asked in a tiny voice, feeling embarrassed with the idea of telling anyone he had defeated the basilisk using Godric Gryffindor's sword.

"No, you may stop. I'm sure they get the idea. As you can see, even through a simple diary that Voldemort, when he was but sixteen, placed spells and charms on, Harry was drawn to him and nearly killed. How much more dangerous can this mirror be? If Voldemort was powerful enough to see me, then surely he has the power to see Harry. They're connected together!" Severus whirled around from the mirror the family was within to face Harry. "HARRY!"

Harry jumped as Severus the ghost snatched up and cradled the Mirror of Rebounds behind himself. It would have been out of sight if Severus were not transparent. Harry guiltily realized he had been staring at the Mirror of Rebounds. Severus the elder sighed.

"I understand your wariness towards the mirror. In some ways, I agree. The Mirror of Rebounds is a dangerous artifact and we do not fully know what Hyacinthe the Druid meant for it to do. He was killed shortly after the Mirror of Rebounds was made when a Roman carriage ran over him.

"However, I have always been one to say there is always an exception to every rule - you know I do; that is why Pandora was always free to do what she wanted, from marrying a Muggleborn wizard instead of Tacitus Malfoy as everyone expected since the one child I had was a daughter, to adopting you.

"There is always an exception to every rule, and so long as that exception does little or no harm, it should be allowed. Of course, the exception to what is happening now may or may not be a good thing. Harry himself is the exception to the rule. However, we must wonder if it's his Snape blood the mirror calls to after so long, or if it's Voldemort. And therein lies our problem: we do not know. Information deliberately not sought and even hidden is often dangerous information, that which could cause us a great deal of grief. But is this grief caused from knowing, or not knowing?"

Watching Severus the elder verbally coax Severus the ghost, Harry found himself admiring the cunning that allowed the man to be Sorted into Slytherin. Severus the elder's voice rose and fell easily. It was nice to listen to, easy to follow, and easy to be swayed by. Harry found it difficult to think of Severus the elder as evil, conniving, and vicious as the Slytherins Harry knew at school.

A sudden thought occurred to Harry then. Perhaps there was more to the Sorting Hat wanting him to be in Slytherin than just his potential of becoming a great wizard; his family background may have had a lot to do with the Hat's reasoning. He made a mental note to speak with his great-great-grandfather after the current mess was resolved.

"Perhaps what you saw was meant to be seen. Perhaps Pandora wanted you to see these things. Perhaps someone dead from long ago wanted you to see what you did. It is highly likely that whoever manipulated the mirror – or perhaps the mirror itself – was trying to inform you of something. Still and all, it is highly unlikely the Mirror worked for its own avenues. It is, after all, an object that does not have intelligence incorporated into it. It is far more likely that someone, somewhere, is trying to inform us something. Now, if we ignore the theory that perhaps it is Voldemort who calls Harry, it leaves only one other likely avenue. That is Pandora.

"She gave you the mirror for a specific reason. Of all the precious, valuable, and irreplaceable things that existed within Dinsmore, she gave you a single box and the Mirror of Rebounds. She must have felt they were important for whatever was going to happen in the future. She told you she was going to her mother's family. The mirror could be used to show us that family, or if Pandora is alive even now. The mirror can show us Pandora as she was but a few seconds into the past. And what if it is Pandora herself who is trying to tell us something?"

The look of pain that crossed Severus the ghost's face caused Severus the elder to stop speaking. Severus the ghost shot a look at Pandora's Box where it always sat. He chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully for several long moments. Everyone watched Severus the ghost's display of frustration. Finally, Severus the ghost said, "Are there any relatives currently residing with us who are highly experienced with handling the Mirror of Rebounds? I want someone who know what they are doing to be with Harry."

Startled at the quick change of Severus' attitude, Severus the elder was silent. It was Oliver who responded. "Besides Cousin Quigley?"

"Cousin Quigley is an expert on the Mirror of Rebounds?" The look on Severus the ghost's face was one of horrified disbelief.

"Surprisingly yes. There are reasons why he took to drink so fondly, and most of it was brought on by the Mirror of Rebounds."

"And the Bloody Barron," Anastasia added. Edwina nodded in agreement with her sister as Oliver rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I believe _that_ might have to do with the fact he was the only Snape to ever be in Hufflepuff," Oliver said pointedly.

"Nevertheless," Severus the elder cut in before Anastasia could reply, "while Quigley may indeed be the most experienced with the Mirror of Rebounds, he is not at all dependable when he is under the influence of alcohol – which is all the time. Someone fetch Uncle Costello. He is well-versed in its use." Edwina, having nothing to say all that time, left to do as her grandfather commanded. Severus the ghost floated over to the small table where Pandora's Box was, sat the Mirror of Rebounds beside it, and then dragged the table over so it stood between Harry and the portraits.

He turned the mirror's reflection from Harry. "We don't want you losing your mind just yet," he said. He hovered beside Harry and waited for Uncle Costello to appear. A few moments later Edwina arrived with Uncle Costello. Like every one of the other Snapes – except Cousin Quigley and Aunt Peggy, both of whom had wound up with reddish-brown hair and brown eyes, Severus the elder whose blue eyes were so dark as to be almost black, and Pandora's children who inherited some of Francis' prominent features – Uncle Costello had black hair, blue eyes, and the wide bone structure that made Snapes look stocky.

He scowled distastefully at the crowded mirror, and Oliver moved over to the side to allow him room. "Now, what's this about my having to verse Harry in the Mirror of Rebounds' use?" he asked.

"Harry's drawn to it," Severus the elder said as he pointed to the subject of his sentence. "It calls to him, and we don't know if it is a natural Snape thing or, because of the events that have occurred, Pandora trying to reach us, or because of his natural ability to attract trouble-" he ignored the squawk of protest from Harry "-since then it may be Voldemort. We want you to show Harry how to use the mirror safely."

"Ah." Uncle Costello looked at the mirror for a moment before he elbowed Edwina and Anastasia for more room. "Firstly, those the Mirror of Rebounds calls to need no incantations to force its hand, as others have had to resort to in the past. You merely stare into it and think of what you care to see. The part of the mirror that calls to you will sense what you seek.

"Secondly, there are certain regions the Mirror of Rebounds cannot reach. Whatever you see is the past and cannot be changed. It will not be affected by anything you do. The mirror will not look into something that does not exist; there are areas in the world that have a great and many legends, but the Mirror of Rebounds proves their existence. Atlantis existed. Avalon did not. Therefore, if what you seek is apart of something that does not exist, you will find nothing."

"What about seeing the future?" Oliver, from off to the side, asked.

Uncle Costello scowled. "Unless," he said with recognizable Slytherin sarcasm, "the person using the Mirror of Rebounds does so shortly after finishing a good two bottles of vodka, then it is highly unlikely one will see the future." He turned to Harry. "Now, to use it, you must twirl the mirror backwards. It will not work if you twirl it forwards. We need to go _backwards_ in time."

Harry looked at the Mirror of Rebounds. He felt like an idiot. "Twirl?" he echoed.

"The glass is suspended and hinged between two poles. Push it backwards and it will twirl." Harry hooked a finger at the base of the glass, but Uncle Costello shook his head. "No, you want the mirror turned towards you." Harry did. In the dark, bleary depths of the glass, he saw the outline of his face. "Now twirl it."

Harry again hooked a finger behind the base of the mirror and snapped it forward. The mirror pirouetted backwards slowly, and then picked up speed. Harry glanced quickly over at Uncle Costello to see if this was normal, but Uncle Costello impatiently gestured him to concentrate on the mirror. Harry gulped and looked at it. The mirror became a dark blur as it whizzed faster and faster on its axle.

A low, audible hum of its movement filled the air. Harry wanted to look at Uncle Costello to see what else he was supposed to do, but he remembered those whom the Mirror of Rebounds called out to only had to think of what they wanted to see. He remembered the dim outline he always saw in the mirror, of a figure that weaved unsteadily. A small prick of white light appeared in the very center of the dark mass of twirling glass, and then exploded into a supernova.

Harry stumbled backwards and blinked at the tiny dots of color in his vision. In the very center of the light, he saw the person from earlier. He recognized the figure swathed in light blue robes that leaned against the wall for support. Unlike last time, where shadows had hidden most of the details, what Harry now saw was as bright and clear as day.

The person was a man in his mid-thirties. Perched on top of rumpled blond hair was a pair of old flight goggles, and the head was tilted forward with the chin brushing against collarbone. The man was too weary, too weak, and in far too much pain to hold his head upright. The arm wrapped around the torso was covered in blood as the red liquid gushed down the front and pooled at the person's feet. At each stumbling step the man took, his horizontally slashed robes parted slightly to reveal white intestines that threatened to spill through the jagged cut that ran across his stomach from hip to hip.

After a few more steps, the man collapsed to his knees at the very top of a flight of stairs. He wrapped both arms around his stomach and trembled.

"Francis Potter!" Severus the ghost whispered in shock.

At the sound of Severus' voice, the man looked up. Eyes of turquoise were glazed over with pain and shock. They widened slightly, as if he saw Harry and Severus standing before him. Francis' upper body swayed back and forth slightly and then pitched forward.

Harry reacted instinctively. He leapt forward with his arms out to catch the falling body. In his wild attempt to help someone who supposedly died almost fifty years ago, he knocked Pandora's Box over with his swinging arms.

It fell on its side and the lid popped open upon jarred impact. Shades of deep green and baby blue colors, entwined together and yet separated completely, flooded from it, drawn like a magnet to the vision Harry reached for. A sudden flash of pain shot through his scar and nearly blinded him in its intensity. His arms passed through the supernova as the colors absorbed themselves into the spinning mass of white and they met with a solid body. Francis tumbled into Harry's arms. Off-balanced from the dead weight falling against him and dizzy from the piercing agony in his forehead, Harry fell backwards onto the floor. As his head smashed into the bed frame, he saw Severus the ghost scoop up and slam Pandora's Box shut. The flooding colors stopped and the supernova the Mirror of Rebounds gave off dissipated like fog beneath a hot sun.

The pain from Harry's scar disappeared as suddenly as it had come, leaving him slightly nauseous. He numbly looked at the limp body he held. He felt a warm stickiness where Francis' stomach was pressed against his thighs, and his stomach swam with uncertainty.

It took Severus the ghost barely a second to assess what just happened. With the wave of his hand, Harry's wand, which sat next to his Hogwarts homework on his desk, flew across the room and bounced off the side of Harry's head.

"You're going to learn a healing spell this instant," Severus said as he lifted Francis' body off of Harry and gently set it on Harry's bed. "We've got to close this wound, and as soon as that is done, I'm off to get Madam Pomfrey."

Harry stood up. He clutched his wand close as he nervously watched Severus peel away Francis' robes to reveal the gash in his lower torso that had Francis almost sliced horizontally in half. Harry felt another wave of nausea at the sight of blood and organs meant to stay within the abdomen cavity.

Severus turned to Harry. "You need to have the very tip of your wand just touching the wound. Not yet, you need to practice the words yet. _Restituo Valetudo. _And roll your R's, boy."

Precious seconds ticked past as Severus forced Harry to repeat the words until he could pronounce them without making a mistake. "We cannot afford you to mess up. Now, point the wand like I told you to." Harry did, and Severus enclosed his hand over Harry's. Chill invaded Harry's arm and it went numb as Severus positioned the wand the way he wanted. "All right." He slowly released Harry's arm and stepped back. "Now say it."

"_Restituo Valetudo."_ A light pink light appeared at the tip of Harry's wand. Before his eyes, the ugly slash across Francis' lower torso began to knit together. Energy swiftly drained from Harry as the wound healed. His hand shook from the exertion of holding his wand in position. After the wound was covered with a thick scab, Harry dropped his wand and fell to his knees, gasping desperately for air.

"That," Severus explained casually as if Harry had not collapsed from exhaustion, "is why I was not able to cast the spell. It requires a direct transfer of healthy energy from one person to another to repair damage. I, as a ghost, cannot supply that." He whirled around suddenly to face their stunned relatives still in Harry's mirror. "I need someone to begin writing the ingredients for a blood restoration potion. I need to have it when I get back with Madam Pomfrey to gather the ingredients immediately." He disappeared then.

Harry stared at his great-grandfather. Francis' breathing was erratic and shallow. He hoped Francis would live long enough for Madam Pomfrey to arrive in time. Harry heard a giggle from behind, and turned around to see the twins grinning ear to ear while everyone else ogled them disbelievingly.

"We were just thinking," Edwina began, her mouth stretched wide in an exuberant smile.

"About Father," Anastasia added with an identical smile.

"Uncle Costello said the past couldn't be changed."

Anastasia pointed at Francis. "And we just realized why Father's body was never found."

"Mum never found out how Father died when she used the Mirror of Rebounds."

"But Father didn't die, and the Mirror of Rebounds can't show what never happened!"

Edwina clapped her hands. "And Father never died because Harry pulled him from the past into the future!"

Uncle Costello frowned. "It's supposed to be impossible to do something like that."

Severus the elder shrugged as he moved away from the mirror to ask Great-Grandmother Mabel about the blood-restoration potion. Ultimately, he had the last word. "And _I_ have _always_ said there is an exception to _every_ rule!"


	4. Chapter 4

"Just for the record," Madam Pomfrey said as she propped Francis' head backwards and coaxed a few drops of her Heal Within potion down his throat without inducing choking, "I have never seen anyone get into as much trouble as the Potter family."

"That," Dumbledore said from he was seated on the bed beside Harry as he watched her, "goes for _all_ the Potters." He sent a knowing glance at the twins.

"What?" Edwina asked with wide-eyed innocence. "It's not as if we _meant_ to turn the entire Hogwarts staff into Puffskiens!"

Oliver's head swiveled about to stare at his older sisters. "That was you two? I always thought Adam Longbottom did it!"

"Come to think of it... So did I." Severus the elder cast his granddaughters a disapproving scowl.

Anastasia glared at Edwina, who smiled apologetically at her male relations.

Harry watched all of this silently. He knew that if he listened close enough, he would hear Severus and Professor McGonagall brewing up a blood-restoration potion in the kitchen.

The Dursleys had disappeared almost immediately the moment the three staff members of the Hogwarts School had appeared within the household premises. Ancestral portraits were subdued and quiet as they watched from pictures and mirrors with wide, solemn eyes. Except, of course, for the twins, who were celebrating with their bright optimism. Their festive spirit refused to be dampened even as Oliver told them that Francis was still in danger of dying.

"The shock on his system of being sliced open like that may be what does him in should he die," Madam Pomfrey had warned them. "If not the shock, then the loss of blood. If not either, then perhaps his intestines had been opened up and his GI tract fluids flooded into his bloodstream and infected his entire circulatory system." That was why she was giving him the Heal Within potion. It was to repair the damage within his system the human eye could not detect from the outside.

"Do you suppose Pandora meant for that to happen, or was it just a random thing that some Greater Being decided?" Uncle Costello asked Severus the elder.

Severus shrugged. "I really can't say. Either way, it was meant to be. Francis' body would never have disappeared otherwise. Remember, Pandora tried to use the Mirror of Rebounds to discover how he died, but it showed her nothing as if he did not exist. Which was true since he was no longer around due to what Harry did, and the mirror _is_ only capable of showing the past. Francis went into the future."

"How _did_ I manage to do that?" Harry wondered softly.

"Sandwich affect," Dumbledore said with a comfortable pat on Harry's arm. "Which reminds me: you don't suppose Severus and Minerva would mind making lunch as soon as they finish their potion, do you?"

Harry looked at Dumbledore. "Sandwich affect?"

"Think of time as if it is a single tube which all events run through." Harry nodded after a moment as Dumbledore spread his arms wide and looked at Harry expectedly. "Francis existed in one area of time, and you exist in another area of time. To reach across the stretch of time and pull Francis from his area to yours, time must then come together." Dumbledore pressed his hands together. "When the two areas are scrunched or sandwiched together, they are so close you can reach into that other area of time."

Oliver waved his hand. "I have a question: if that is so, then how does time get sandwiched together?"

Dumbledore folded his hands across his lap. "It should be possible if enough power is used," he said solemnly.

The eyes of all those who had witnessed the arrival of Francis Potter immediately shifted to the plain wooden box with silver edging that sat next to the Mirror of Rebounds on Harry's desk. Dumbledore noticed immediately. "What is that?" he asked innocently as he nudged Harry with a bony elbow.

"Uh, well, it's Pandora's Box."

"Oh?"

Harry felt obliged to help Dumbledore. "She gave it to Severus along with the Mirror of Rebounds."

"Hmm." Dumbledore leaned backwards slightly.

Edwina waved her hand furiously. "Oh! Oh! I have a question! Did anyone else ever cross time like this before?"

"Not that I know."

Anastasia glared at Dumbledore. "Then how do you know it's possible?"

"My dear," he winked at her, "anything is possible." Dumbledore turned to Madam Pomfrey, who was screwing the cap on her potion bottle. "How is he coming?" he asked with the same cheerfulness as the twins.

"Well enough." She turned to the hastily-packed bag of goods she had thrown together when Severus had appeared before her and informed her that her medical skills were needed to help someone who had been attacked by a very vicious and very sharp object. "I will have to keep giving Mr. Potter the Heal Within potion regularly for the next twelve hours, but with it and the blood-restorer, he should be well enough to move to the school infirmary."

"Pray tell," said Severus the ghost as he drifted through the wall, "when was _this_ decided?"

McGonagall entered the bedroom through the door. She carried a steaming mug of the blood-restoration potion. The handle of a spoon was seen peeking over the rim of the mug. Condensation clung to it. "Right after you left upon telling us it was Francis Potter," McGonagall said. She handed the potion to Madam Pomfrey.

"We cannot let Voldemort learn of this in any way," Dumbledore said softly, "which will happen if we take him to St. Mungo's. Who knows what he would do should he learn Pandora's husband is still alive? Or, for that matter, that some of Dinsmore's portraits survived the fire? Francis is also in need of good care, and Madam Pomfrey can only attend to his needs in a facility supplied and meant to handle wounded people."

"I'm staying with Francis," Severus the ghost said firmly. "And Harry stays with me." His voice broached no argument.

"And where Harry goes," Severus the elder said, "the rest of us go." The others nodded in agreement.

It was in that moment that an owl whizzed into Harry's room through the open window, swung around in a round arc to drop a letter on Harry's bed, and then flew out. Everyone looked at the letter, and McGonagall picked it up. It was a letter from the Ministry and Harry knew immediately what it was for.

"I illegally used magic!" he whispered in dismay. Heads turned in to his direction. "I'm going to be expelled from Hogwarts, aren't I? That's the third time!"

McGonagall opened the letter and quickly scanned its contents. Severus the ghost hovered over her shoulder, also peering at what was written.

"I," said Severus the elder, "think that magic used in emergencies, such as what happened now, would hardly get you expelled from Hogwarts." He looked at Dumbledore to see what the Headmaster would say. Dumbledore wordlessly held his hand out to McGonagall, who folded the letter and gave it to him. Dumbledore read it slowly.

"You aren't in trouble," Dumbledore informed Harry when he finished. He tucked the letter in his pocket and smiled brightly at Harry. Harry's worry evaporated at the sight of Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes. "The Ministry of Magic can't fault a student who performs magic under the command and tutelage of a competent instructor, such as Professor Severus Snape."

"Even if he's my uncle?"

"Especially if he's your uncle," McGonagall put in. "A life was at stake here. Severus, unable to heal Francis' wound due to his, er, condition-"

"You make being dead sound like a disease, Minerva," Severus interrupted with a scowl. McGonagall continued without missing a beat.

"-said you would have to do it. He trained you, and to assure you performed the spell without mistake, and it would have been far worse if you hadn't. Even if he wasn't able to perform a spell himself, he was still capable of stopping you should something have gone awry."

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. "If I may speak?" she asked. McGonagall nodded graciously. Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a smile. "Under medical conditions, the Ministry of Magic allows emergency magic to occur when a terrible accident has occurred and only a student is capable of performing a healing spell. I can even show you the statute."

Dumbledore looked at her sharply. "Which means the Ministry of Magic is getting sloppy if they do not take the time to investigate what sort of magic was used," he said. "That is not a good sign. I shall write to them as soon as we reach Hogwarts."

* * *

Nine hours later, Madam Pomfrey tightly bundled up the still-unconscious Francis Potter as Dumbledore and McGonagall created a portkey that would transfer Madam Pomfrey and Francis directly to the Hogwarts infirmary. After a great deal of arguing, threats, and complaints (the latter aimed at Harry and Severus the ghost), Harry's relations moved temporarily into the Mirror of Rebounds once more. No one could find Cousin Quigley. Harry wrote a quick letter to the Dursleys, explaining to them that a situation had risen where he, the portraits, and Severus were going to Hogwarts for the rest of the summer. No doubt, the Dursleys would celebrate upon learning. Harry added a quick note on the bottom of the letter and told the Dursleys to inform Cousin Quigley that the others had gone to Hogwarts, and to stay still until the Dursleys could inform Harry or Dumbledore that they had found him (or would they prefer having the drunken portrait wander unsupervised through the pictures and mirrors?).

With that ready and the portkey created, it took only a moment for Harry to gather up his school supplies. Severus the ghost, however, was an entirely different matter.

"No! No no no no! Absolutely not!" Harry could hardly believe he, of all people, was arguing with the intimidating Potions Master. On the other hand, he had grown somewhat used to speaking to his uncle Severus without feeling intimidated (well, not too much, at least), so it only made sense that the casually speaking would move to firm disagreement. "I refuse to let you bring along Aunt Petunia's and Uncle Vernon's toaster oven!"

"I am tied to the machine, you dolt!" Severus cradled the object of their argument close to his chest. "If we leave it behind, I have to spend the majority of my time here, regardless of where the rest of you are!"

"Couldn't you have found something better to haunt than a toaster oven?"

"I could have chosen to haunt your underwear," Severus said with a great deal of wounded dignity. Harry's eyes grew wide behind his glasses as he had a vivid recollection of Severus doing something to that degree in a rather embarrassing nightmare.

He turned away from Severus, dropping the argument completely. His eyes fell upon rumpled blond hair that peeked out from the folds of blanket wrapped around Francis' body. Harry knew he should be reacting more to what had just happened; but given the circumstances of his family existing within mirrors and pictures and his uncle haunting the family toaster oven, it hardly seemed startling. The idea that his great-grandfather, slightly younger than Severus had been when Voldemort killed him, was here in this time and place did not surprise Harry in the least.

It almost felt normal.

_It's the shock,_ Harry told himself. _I'm going to suddenly realize how very serious everything is, and when I do, I'm going to cry until I finally accept that what is done is done and nothing else can be said about it._ Unless, of course, he had subconsciously decided to forego all but the last part of that already.

"Ready?" Dumbledore asked as he set the portkey on the bed. They had decided to use one of Harry's socks. Originally, they were going to use Harry's belt, but Harry only had one, and it was too valuable to use as a portkey.

Madam Pomfrey looped one arm around Francis Potter, pulled her bag of medical supplies close, and nudged the portkey with her foot. They faded away in the distance. Professor McGonagall smiled encouragingly at Harry before she grabbed his trunk and Apparated to the grounds outside Hogwarts. Dumbledore did the same with Hedwig's cage. Harry was left alone with Severus. They would flag down the Knight Bus, take it to Diagon Alley, and Floo to Hogwarts from the Leaky Cauldron.

"I can carry the Mirror of Rebounds along with my toaster oven," Severus said as he reached for it.

"Then I get Pandora's Box." Harry picked up and held the box gingerly, cautious of dropping it. Harry was not at all eager to see the flooding colors again. He made sure his wand was tucked securely in his pocket, and exited his room by the door as Severus the ghost drifted through the wall. "Do you think we should make sure the box doesn't open?" Harry asked as he hurried after Severus. The ghost stopped so suddenly that Harry hurried through him and scraped his hands against the toaster oven Severus carried.

Severus glanced down at the box. "Harry, I believe that is the most intelligent thing you have said all summer." He started to float away and then paused. He looked at Harry knowingly. "That isn't saying much though, considering your record."

Harry glared at Severus, who floated over the stairs and directly down to the kitchen. Harry carefully carried Pandora's Box before him. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Severus appeared with a roll of scotch tape. Harry and Severus switched items so Severus did not have to carry two things and wrap scotch tape around a potential disaster waiting to happen at the same time. As he looked at Pandora's Box, Harry made another mental note to himself: Hide the box in a secure spot before Neville Longbottom came back to school.

Severus proceeded to use the entire roll of scotch tape to secure Pandora's Box tightly. With that finished, they exited out the front door of the Dursley home. Harry paused to lock the door as Severus floated down to the street. He held Harry's wand up. A moment passed, and then a bang resounded down the street. Harry jumped at the loud sound. He hurried to stand before Severus. A quick glance at his wristwatch informed him it was past nine.

The quick glance turned into a long stare. When the Knight Bus screeched to a halt beside the two wizards, Severus turned to see if Harry had the money ready. He frowned when he saw Harry staring intently at the face of his watch. He poked his nephew with one chilling finger. Harry jumped, saw the Knight Bus, and then hurriedly rummaged through his pockets for the money McGonagall had given him to pay for the fare.

They entered the bus together and Stan, wearing his purple uniform, stared at Harry in shock. " 'ey! It's little 'arry again!"

Harry smiled nervously at Stan "How much would it be to take the Professor and me to Diagon Alley?" Stan looked at Severus the ghost, who had resumed a stony countenance. At the sight of him, Stan's eyes popped open.

"Er, ah." He turned to Ernie and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at Professor Snape. "Do we charge for ghosts?"

Ernie, whose eyes were as equally wide as Stan's, gestured Stan close and whispered loudly in his ear, "If _you_ think _I'm_ going to charge _Professor Snape_ of all people when _he's_ a ghost-"

"Maybe we should check th' rulebook." Ernie and Stan looked at each other, nodded, and both reached for the red manual tucked in their pockets. Severus the ghost rolled his eyes and drifted down the aisle to secure a seat, which seemed to replace beds during waking hours. He glared at the dozen witches and wizards who stared in open amazement at his toaster oven.

"Nope, can't fin' anythin' on chargin' ghosts," Stan said to Harry with a great deal of relief evident in his voice. "So it'll jus' be th' usual. Eleven sickles. 'Less you wan' 'ot chocolate?" Harry pushed the money into Stan's hand and grabbed onto a seat as Ernie started the bus with another loud bang and zoomed down the street.

"No hot chocolate, thank you," Harry said politely. Ernie nodded his head.

"You won' be needin' no bed?" he asked.

Harry looked at Severus, who had chosen a seat by a window. "No, I don't think so." He and Stan nodded before departing. Harry sat down beside his uncle with a sigh. Severus said nothing as he gazed out the window at the passing neighborhood. "I found Cousin Quigley," Harry said.

Severus turned away from the window to Harry with a politely inquiring look on his face. Harry held his watch up and pointed to the little smudge that lay across the slightly slanted hour hand. After a brief moment, the smudge stirred. Cousin Quigley flipped onto his back and resumed snoring. Severus frowned thoughtfully and turned back to gaze out the window. Harry looked at the sleeping figure, and then grinned viciously as he fiercely shook the watch.

"Wha?" Cousin Quigley rolled off the hour hand and bounced off each number until he hit the bottom. He looked around with bleary eyes and saw Harry grinning. The drunken ancestor shook his fist at Harry. "Can't a person sleep in peace?" He climbed the numbers back up to the hour hand, slipped a few times in the process, and lay across it with his feet propped up on the knob where all the hands were attached. One warning glance to Harry, and he closed his eyes and went back to sleep. Looking at the sleeping portrait, Harry decided Cousin Quigley had the right idea and decided to take a quick nap as well. He cuddled against the pillow. The sway of the Knight bus swiftly lulled him into sleep.

* * *

It was another dream. Harry repressed a groan of complaint as he found himself floating ghost-like above the floor of a study. He was in a long dark room but for faint, indeterminable light sources that came from somewhere above. The walls were lined with shelves crammed full of thick books. Harry floated around and peered at the titles. _Curses Created by Cults. Defending Against Demons. Devastating Potions and Their Cures. Study of Voodoo Magic. _Harry decided again reading more titles. He felt overwhelmed from the sheer mass of books on Dark Arts.

He floated aimlessly through the large room. It was like a very wide hall that twisted and turned in many directions and sometimes curved into little curved pockets off to the side. Harry drifted endlessly down the hall, glancing at book titles and then quickly away when their subject matter still contained something to do with the Dark Arts. When the hall-like room branched into two different directions, Harry saw a lighted candle propped up on some furniture. He turned and drifted to it.

The candle burned on top of a writing desk where a man with black hair and bronze skin, dressed in robes so red they were almost black, sat dictating information from a book. Harry watched the graceful and controlled fingers manipulate the quill in forming beautifully curved letters. The candlelight cast a warm glow on the man's face, which was strong and handsome. Harry tilted his head to get a better glimpse, and the man looked up then.

Harry found himself staring into dark blue eyes that seemed to hold the knowledge of the world. It was not as if they were wise, as were Dumbledore's, but cunning, sharp, and so filled with instant understanding of what took place that the mind behind the eyes seemed to comprehend everything.

The man frowned thoughtfully at Harry, and leaned slowly back against his chair. "How did you get in here?" the man asked. His voice was cultured and as gentle as a mother's love. The shadows seemed to waver beneath the power his words vibrated with. As nice as the man sounded, Harry hoped this dream would not turn into a nightmare. He had a feeling this was someone he did not want to cross.

"I am dreaming at the moment," Harry said matter-of-factly, just in case. The man regarded Harry with an upraised eyebrow.

"At least one of us is," he said almost agreeably before resuming his dictation. Harry craned his neck for a closer look.

"What are you writing?" he asked.

The man glanced upward. "If you're dreaming, you should know."

"My brain refuses to tell me, so I have to ask it in a way in which it's tricked into telling me."

Another upraised eyebrow. "What is your name, boy?"

"Harry Potter."

The man's expression continued to hold a cool, detached appearance. Harry hoped he would not be booted out of this dream like he had been in the one where he was running through a field with a woman he called Mom. The man settled against his chair, tapping his chin thoughtfully with his quill as he intently studied Harry. Harry had the sudden feeling that his entire future was being weighed in this single moment.

"What are the names of your parents?" the man asked finally.

"My father was James Potter and my mother was Lily Evans."

"What are the names of your father's parents?"

"Oliver Potter and, er..." Harry thought desperately for the name Severus had mentioned in his letter to Harry. "Er… Anne Sullivan."

The man winced. "What are the names of your grandfather's parents?"

"Francis Potter and Pandora Snape."

The man closed his eyes as a flash of pain crossed his face. When he opened them, the light within the irises swirled with a hellish power. A shudder ran up Harry's spine at the sight of it. "Francis Potter and Pandora did have a son named Oliver, that is true. However, Oliver Potter only had daughters." The man blinked, and the power was gone. "I believe I may be the one dreaming here. So, what do you want to tell me?"

Harry gaped momentarily at the man. "Forget the dream," he muttered. "It just turned into a nightmare for me."

"It could be worse." The man's voice dropped into a seductive whisper and he smiled in such a way to match his whisper. "I could kill you."

Remembering the hellish power, Harry believed the man. The voice suggested that death wouldn't be unpleasant, but the look in the eyes spoke otherwise.

His shoulders slumped forward. "Look," he said tiredly, "I've already got a madman who seems to be obsessed with the fact that I am the only person to have ever thwarted him. I don't need someone else trying to kill me as well."

The man bowed over his parchment and seemed to forget about Harry for a moment. "And what is this man's name?" he asked politely.

Harry sighed. "Voldemort."

The bowed head immediately snapped upward. "Voldemort does not exist!" Though the man's voice was threaded with denial and panic, his face remained smooth and devoid of any obvious emotions or thoughts.

Harry eyed the man suspiciously. "If Voldemort doesn't exist, then I don't exist. I _know_ I exist."

Again there was a swell of chaotic power within the man's eyes. Harry remembered seeing power appear within Dumbledore's eyes, but it was only a tiny drop in the vast ocean of this man's strength. _No one has any right to that much power,_ Harry thought with growing horror.

"We," the man said in a deceptively friendly voice, "could easily rectify that."

A chill ran down Harry's spine again and the hair on the back of his neck rose on end. "I'd rather not."

"Then you best leave now."

"I believe I shall." Harry floated away with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances, feeling the man's gaze burn into his back. His surroundings faded to black, and Harry drifted into a comfortable darkness.

* * *

Harry was rudely prodded awake by a freezing elbow in his side. He gave Severus a dirty look as the ghost drifted through him. Harry and Severus exited the bus along with several other people and went directly to the Leaky Cauldron. It was late at evening, yet there were people still ordering dinner. The many different scents of food caused Harry's stomach to clench and remind him that, once again, he had had no supper.

He watched Severus nervously. Severus exchanged a quick word with Tom, borrowed his Floo power, and led Harry over to the fireplace. He jumped when a face appeared in one of the lenses of his glasses.

"What are we going to do now?" Cousin Quigley asked as he stifled a yawn with one hand. He leaned against the rounded frames of Harry's glasses.

"We're going to Floo to Hogwarts."

Cousin Quigley's puffy red face went chalky white and he froze in mid-yawn. "Floo?" His voice cracked. His hands gripped the rim of Harry's glasses tightly.

"Misery loves company," Harry grumbled, "and you're in good company with me." Cousin Quigley slowly sunk low below the frames out of sigh until Harry could only see the man's nose, eyes, forehead, and hands.

"I don't want to go to Hogwarts," Cousin Quigley whimpered.

"Well, that's where everyone else is going."

"Why?"

Harry remembered Cousin Quigley had not been present when he pulled Francis Potter through the Mirror of Rebounds. "Well, Francis Potter is back, and he's there," he said. Cousin Quigley did not seem to hear him. He whimpered and sunk further out of sight.

Severus cleared his throat and Harry realized that his uncle had been holding the pot of Floo powder for some time. With a resigned sigh, Harry tucked Pandora's Box close to his body and grabbed a handful of Floo power.

"Shout Hogwarts, and it will send you to the Great Hall," Severus said as he floated back to Tom to give him the Floo Power. Harry stepped into the fireplace and dropped the Floo Powder.

"Hogwarts!" he cried, then he was gone. Over and over he tumbled. He clutched Pandora's Box close to himself and fought down the wave of nausea. He saw Cousin Quigley turn a sickly green and heard him mumble something about needing a very strong drink after this was all done, and Harry would be most welcome to join him, since Harry probably needed a strong drink too.

They tumbled through a small fireplace set in the very corner of the Great Hall.

"Never again," Cousin Quigley moaned as he sank completely out of sight. "I shall never Floo again. I was happy just living in one pub only, and if I ever needed a change of scene, I went over to the neighboring pub. Dublin sure had plenty." He sniffled. Harry felt the urge to beg his ancestor not to cry. It was a sad sight to see a grown man cry, but no doubt Cousin Quigley would drown his sorrow in the strongest alcohol-based drink he could summon.

"We're going to go see Francis Potter," Harry said instead as he stood up. Cousin Quigley peered over the frame at Harry. He smiled, but it was a weak attempt at cheerfulness and they both knew it.

"Francis Potter is a fine man," Cousin Quigley said. "He can mix the finest Bloody Mary to be had." His weak smile turned into a genuine smile filled with bright memories as Cousin Quigley took a quick mental stroll through his past. "That man's a genius."

Harry ignored him as he hurried through Hogwarts to the infirmary.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry burst into the infirmary. The door banged against the wall from the force he had barreled through with. Madam Pomfrey gave him a dirty look and Harry smiled sheepishly at her. Still casting him a dirty look, she pressed a finger to her lips to signal silence. Harry nodded understandingly and followed the direction in which she then pointed.

Severus the ghost, the Mirror of Rebounds on the floor to his left and the Dursleys' toaster oven on the floor to his right, floated beside the headboard of one of the hospital beds. In the mirrors and countryside paintings someone had placed around the bed, Harry's Snape ancestors whispered and watched with Severus.

Harry slowly approached the bed to see Francis Potter sprawled across the sheets. His arms were flung wide and the sheets were bunched around his waist. Madam Pomfrey had exchanged his blood-soaked robes for a white hospital gown, which hiked high up fuzzy-looking legs. Harry looked from his great-grandfather to his adopted uncle.

"Now I know where James got his sleeping habits," Severus grumbled. At the sound of his voice, Francis flipped over to his side and mumbled something about five more minutes, 'll right Pandora? He even pulled a pillow over his head. Harry noticed how his feet twitched a few moments before stilling. Cousin Quigley watched with plain amusement.

"At least we know he's all right now, right?" Harry asked.

"It's amazing how quickly he has improved," Madam Pomfrey said behind them. Heads turned to look at her. She moved to stand beside the bed and gazed down at Francis Potter. On the bed stand beside the bed, the goggles that Francis had been wearing rested beside his wedding band and a large gold pocket watch on a long chain. "I can only attest that to your having pumped a great deal of healing energy into Francis when you cast that spell on him." She eyed Harry. "Are you feeling weak?"

"Not particularly," Harry said. "I felt a bit weak after I cast the spell, but I recovered pretty fast."

Without saying a word, Madam Pomfrey handed him a small bottle of rejuvenating potion. "To replace what you lost," she said in explanation. Harry wanted to say he would much rather prefer a large supper, but he drank the potion without complaint. It tasted of vinegar and he shuddered at it. Madam Pomfrey said nothing as she took the empty bottle from him and walked away. Harry placed Pandora's Box beside the Mirror of Rebounds and sat down on Francis' bed.

"I don't know what to do," he said finally.

"You've already done enough," Severus the ghost replied gruffly. He stared at Harry for a moment then made a shooing gesture with his hands. "Off to the kitchen with you," he said. "I'm sure Dobby would be pleased enough to see you and once the house elves learn you've not eaten, they'll stuff you with all sorts of food. " Harry looked at his uncle suspiciously. It was not so much that Harry was surprised that Severus would show a slight amount of concern towards him, but that Severus' voice was far gentler than he had heard before. "Don't worry about Francis. This is the safest place for him to stay." Harry did not move until Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously and he made an impatient gesture with his hands. "Go on!" he snapped with a slim finger pointed at the infirmary's doors. "I will not have you fainting from lack of food, for I certainly will not sit at your bedside!"

Harry jumped at the snarl in Severus' voice. Well, so much for _that_ short-lived gentleness. In the corner of his eye, Harry saw the twins grin knowingly at him. He hurried out of the room down to the kitchens. Cousin Quigley perked up upon learning he and Harry were heading for the kitchen.

"Do you wonder if the house elves will make a hot totty for us?" Cousin Quigley wondered.

Harry was not quite sure what a hot totty entailed, but he knew (just because this was "Quaffing" Quigley who was asking) it had to involve alcohol of some sort. His stomach twisted with hunger and his quick walk broke into a jog. He rounded one corner and knocked McGonagall over. Harry apologized profusely as he helped her to her feet.

"Harry," McGonagall said, "you needn't worry. This is summer, classes are not in session, and I'm certainly not going to take points off for your running through the halls."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I wasn't worried about the removal of points. I don't remember anyone losing points for running through the halls."

"Hmm." McGonagall nodded sharply. Harry's stomach growled loudly at that point, and Harry found himself blushing. With a penetrating look over the rim of her glasses, McGonagall let him on his way to the kitchen. He threw a smile over his shoulder at her as he hurried along.

"Who was that?" Cousin Quigley asked.

"That was the Head of the Gryffindor House," Harry replied. "She's all right."

"Hmm." Cousin Quigley rubbed his eyes and looked around. "This place hasn't altered since I attended Hogwarts."

"When did you attend Hogwarts?"

Cousin Quigley's face scrunched up as he thought. "If I recall correctly - it's been a terribly long while - my first year at Hogwarts was 1764."

"That _was_ a long while ago."

"Yes." A dreamy look floated across Cousin Quigley's face. "When I finished school, I obtained a job with the Foreign Relationships of the Ministry of Magic. I helped establish the first school of witchcraft and wizardry in the United States of America." He vaguely waved his hands with a sadly wistful smile on his face. "I met my wife there. She was an Iroquois Indian whose father had been a powerful medicine man. Her native ways were looked down upon and shunned. I took an interest in her. I suppose it was partially because she reminded me of, well, me. I did my best to help her adjust to living in a magical society.

"White Rabbit and I became quite acquainted with one another and married two years after she finished school. Not that the family approved of her, of course, but the family has never approved of anything I ever did." He looked sad.

"But," Harry said with a frown as he remembered what Uncle Costello had said, "what of the Mirror of Rebounds?"

Cousin Quigley made a face. "Harry," he said in a stern voice, "the Mirror of Rebounds is a sentient item. When Hyacinthe the Druid created it, he infused a small piece of his own will into it. Only those with the man's blood may control its will, and that blood may be found most prominently within the Snapes, although there were several Malfoys who were known to use the mirror. The Mirror of Rebounds, because of its creator, is quite silent. It does not care to part with its information; the druids were notoriously close-mouthed keepers of lore and knowledge."

"Weren't they also seers?"

"Which is why the Mirror can look forward as well as it can look backward," Cousin Quigley replied darkly. "But again, the Mirror does not care to part with what it knows, and the druids were very stubborn persons."

"Then it would show us Pandora if it wanted?"

"It doesn't want to part with what it knows," Cousin Quigley gave Harry a testy glare for having to repeat himself. "At least, not to those who are unreceptive. The Snape family always tended to be very rigid and rather self-righteous in their beliefs, but not as much as the Malfoys, which is why they don't have such a record of users like we did. Not to mention it was a Malfoy responsible for the death of Hyacinthe, and the Mirror of Rebounds was never too happy about that. Oh, both families are powerful though. Powerful enough to bend the will of the mirror to their own and force it to show them what they wanted. However, the Mirror of Rebounds never fully allowed itself to surrender its complete power to those whose minds are closed to possibilities and change. It's a selfish little critter."

A bitterness filled Cousin Quigley's voice. Harry faltered in his walking and squinted his eyes at the reflection in his glasses. "A Malfoy killed Hyacinthe? Was it a Malfoy who was driving the carriage?"

Cousin Quigley shook his head. "No. A Malfoy pushed him. Daemon Malfoy did not care to be tricked into marrying Hyacinthe's exceptionally unsightly daughter." He frowned thoughtfully. "At least, I think it was Daemon. Might have been another blondie."  
"What about Grandfather Severus, then?" Harry asked. "Uncle Severus says he was the most open-minded of all the Snapes."

"He does not need the Mirror," Cousin Quigley said. "The Mirror told him things through other means, such was his open-mindedness. That was how he met Rhia-eep!" A look of panicked terror crossed Cousin Quigley's face and he ducked beneath the frames of Harry's glasses. Harry's mind froze at the sudden piece of information Cousin Quigley had given him. His body soon followed as he accidentally ran directly through the Bloody Baron.

The Slytherin Ghost gave Harry a dirty look as he drifted up through the floors. Harry shuddered as his eyes traced the bleeding gashes rent across the ghostly flesh. The Bloody Baron had been killed very violently and his wounds remained after death. Harry squinted at his glasses. Cousin Quigley was probably not going to be back so soon. As Harry started to walk to the kitchens again, he had to wonder how Severus the ghost had died.

* * *

Dumbledore accosted Harry at the entrance to the infirmary when the boy wandered back from the kitchens, munching contentedly on a piece of corn bread Winky had wrapped in a cheese cloth for him. "My boy!" Dumbledore cried happily as Harry appeared. Harry stared suspiciously at Dumbledore, his jaws frozen in mid-munch. "I have a few things I wish to discuss with you." Dumbledore looped one arm through Harry's and insistently tugged him away from the infirmary. "How has your Uncle Severus been, hmmm?"

"Annoying," Harry replied without thinking. Dumbledore chuckled.

"He's rather skilled at that," the Headmaster said fondly. "I'm quite glad that you and your relations are here, Harry. The summer months tend to pass so slowly, what with Hogwarts being empty and so tomb-like. Now, at least with you here, this dull place will brighten up."

Harry looked at Dumbledore as the old man's face glowed with bliss. "Do you go anywhere else during the summer months?" he inquired politely.

"Oh, I'll visit the mountains on occasion, or the seashore for a romp in the oceans."

Harry had a silly vision of Dumbledore wearing only Bermuda shorts as he lounged on a lawn chair, drinking piña coladas with little umbrella straws. Harry snickered as Dumbledore gazed at him with twinkling eyes, as if he knew what Harry was imagining. "The school," Dumbledore said, becoming solemn, "is my life. I dedicate almost all my time to be sure it is kept safe, and so students will always have a safe haven if they are ever in need of it." He sighed. "Alas, as these times grow steadily darker, there will be many who need it."

Harry's cheer dissipated. "How dark have things become?" he asked fearfully.

Dumbledore patted him gently on the shoulder. "Without your great-grandmother's ability to halt Voldemort's attacks, I will say within two years he will have gained back all that he has lost. But we have a more pressing matter to attend at this very moment, and it is currently lying in the infirmary."

"Francis Potter?"

"Yes. Now, when you say you pulled Francis through, how did that happen?" Dumbledore sounded innocent enough in his curiosity, but something about the sharp look in his eyes made the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. Dumbledore watched and waited for Harry's reaction. The Headmaster was going to learn more than just about exactly what happened; Harry had a feeling that even his very movement could inform Dumbledore what he wanted to know.

_They say that Dumbledore is the only wizard Voldemort ever feared,_ Harry thought to himself. Not trusting his voice, he shrugged. "I," he said carefully, "really can't say." At the slight narrowing of Dumbledore's eyes, Harry hastened to explain why he could not say. "I don't know how it happened. I saw Francis in the Mirror of Rebounds, and I reached for him, and then there was this power, and Francis came through."

"Ah." Dumbledore patted Harry's shoulder again. "It is difficult to understand something you have no understanding of," He smiled at Harry as he dug through his violet-colored robes pockets until he discovered a slightly melted Chocolate Frog. "Here." He pressed it into Harry's hand. "These make an excellent bedtime snack, and it _is_ late. Minerva has informed me she has prepared one of the dormitories for you within the Gryffindor Tower. Password is bravado. Run along now." Dumbledore shooed Harry off.

"But what about--"

"I'll send Severus along to tuck you in. Don't worry about your grandfather. Poppy will tie Francis down to the bed if she has to, just to make sure he stays there long enough for her to decide he is well." Dumbledore winked knowingly. "I believe she had several weeks in mind, but Francis was never one to disobey authority in the first place."

Harry started to protest again, but the jaw-cracking yawn that prevented him from saying anything was the deciding factor in the argument. He bade Dumbledore good evening and walked to the entrance of the Gryffindor Tower. On his way, a face timidly peeked over the bottom edge of his glasses' rims, and peered nervously about with alcohol-bleary eyes.

"Ish he gone?" Cousin Quigley whispered, meaning the Bloody Baron.

Harry silently groaned. He found he rather liked speaking to Cousin Quigley, but only when the man was not intoxicated. "He's gone."

Cousin Quigley's lower lip trembled. "Good." He tilted his head back and took a quick swig from a green bottle. "He hatesh me," he whimpered. "He nevah (_hic_) liked the idea that a Shnape wound up in Hupplefluff. Er, Pupplehuff. Oh gosh (_sniffle)_." He took another swig. "He nevah let me shleep, he (_hic_) alwaysh tore up my homewowk. And he dwipped blood all over (_hic_) my wobesh." Cousin Quigley rubbed his red eyes and Harry felt a wave of pity for his sad little ancestor. "They all shaid the Bwoddy Bawon would tuffen me up. They all picked on (_sniff_) on me!" Cousin Quigley burst into tears, and Harry fought down the urge to rub his glasses in an effort to get rid of Cousin Quigley. "Thoshe bulliesh!"

'"That's right," Harry agreed to appease his sobbing relative. "They don't know a single thing of how it feels to be what you are and what you do. They don't understand what it is like to be stuck in the situation and that all you can try to do is just get by."

Cousin Quigley nodded as he sobbed, draped over the rim with his head buried in his arms. "You unnerstand me, boy! I'll show 'em though!" he cried suddenly as he suddenly stood upright. He tossed the bottle over his shoulder. His face, red from drink, became redder still. "I'll show 'em!" He started to walk to the right of Harry's glasses, tripped over his own feet, and fell flat on his face out of sight. "Ouch."

Harry did not know whether to laugh or cry at Cousin Quigley's actions. He decided to ignore the matter. As he passed the girls' bathroom, he thought of Moaning Myrtle. _Perhaps_, he thought bemusedly, _the two wouldn't mind going on a date._

_Wait…. _Can_ portraits and ghosts date?_ Harry decided to ask his grandfather Severus at a later time. The Fat Lady greeted him cordially enough as he approached her portrait, given the fact it was late at night and she never appreciated having her sleep interrupted.

"Glad to have you back," she said brightly. "It's dull around here without you children popping in and out." Harry smiled at her and passed through the entrance. He glanced around the common room with a little smile on his face. It was good to be home again. The Gryffindor common room was one of the most friendliest and most familiar rooms in all of Hogwarts. At least, that had always been Harry's opinion. Standing in it made Harry feel warm with happiness.

Professor McGonagall had left a light burning in the common room. Up the stairs, Harry saw another light burning. He trudged tiredly up to where the light burned. It was a small candle beside the only open doorway in the boys' dormitory. Harry believed this to be the dormitory Professor McGonagall had prepared for him. He picked up the candle and carried it over to the only made bed in the entire room. He saw his trunk half-hidden in the shadows at the foot of his bed. Harry undressed, pulled his pajamas out of the trunk, and was slipping the pajamas top on when a transparent head emerged from the floors. It was followed by an equally transparent body.

Used to his uncle materializing or floating through walls, ceilings, and floors, Harry was hardly surprised. Nor was he surprised at the scowl etched into Severus' features, since he was also used to Severus' constant poor mood. "What's the matter?" Harry asked as he tugged on his pajamas bottom.

"Would you care to be tucked into bed?" Severus' voice was kind and patient, very much unlike the unpleasant scowl on his face.

"No, thank you," Harry replied evenly as he pulled his blankets back. "I am quite sure I can take care of myself. But I would like a story."

"And I suppose you want a happy ending as well."

"It would be nice. I wouldn't want nightmares." Harry pounced upon his bed and drew the covers back over himself.

There was a slight pause. "We are both being sarcastic, aren't we?" Severus inquired. He looked as unsure as he sounded.

"I'm hoping so," Harry replied, just as unsure. "I'm not too partial with the thought of you reading me a story."

"The feeling is mutual." They gazed at one another for a moment. It was Severus who looked away first. "Are you absolutely certain that you don't need to be tucked in?"

"What _are_ you up to?" Harry demanded suspiciously. Severus shrugged. He managed to gather a semblance of dignity around himself so he did not seem so unsure.

"I've been thinking," he said. "Of Francis and Pandora and everyone else. Francis had three children nearly as old as yourself when he was attacked and then you pulled him across the stream of time. While he is not one to panic, I'm not sure how he'll react to knowing he is nearly five decades into the future and you're his great-grandson and I'm his adopted grandson." He looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure what I am to him since he was legally dead when Pandora adopted me."

"Look, if this is about whether you've been a good uncle to me, I have to say that you are the best uncle I have ever known while he was alive."

Severus glared at Harry. "Your only other uncle is Vernon Dursley," he reminded Harry bitterly. "That doesn't leave much room for comparison."

Harry sighed as he pulled his bed covers over his head. "Isn't it Voldemort's weekend to be haunted?"

Severus shrugged. "I made him mad enough at me as it is."

"Then go haunt Lucius Malfoy instead."

Severus thought about that. "I really shouldn't leave Francis just now..." He looked torn for a moment then shrugged. "A few hours won't hurt," he mumbled to himself as he drifted away. Harry wondered briefly why his uncle was acting so strange, but that question disappeared as he drifted off to sleep.

And dreamt once again.


	6. Chapter 6

Severus the ghost glared at Lucius Malfoy. The man lay on a queen-sized bed with the blankets pulled up around his body.

"He's been like this since Friday," Draco said behind Severus, trying to be as helpful as possible. Draco wore blue silk pajamas. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and stifled a yawn. "Mum says he took enough Draught of the Living Dead to stay asleep for the entire weekend. She's staying in a guestroom so she won't be disturbed by his looking like a corpse. Said she was angry enough to strangle him for this, though."

"Obviously he was hoping he could sleep through my visit to Voldemort," Severus said darkly. Voldemort had a habit of taking some of his misery out on Lucius. Severus shooed Draco out the door. "You go back to bed; you need your sleep. I have something to do. Oh, and Draco?" Draco turned around and looked at Severus floating in his parents' bedroom doorway, "Come Monday, should you hear screaming coming from this room, ignore it."

Draco nodded cooperatively. He never actively participated in Severus' pranks, but given past experience, Severus had a broad imagination. He wandered off to bed.

Severus gleefully rubbed his hands as he surveyed the room. "I," he said softly, "never _did_ like the arrangement of this room's furniture."

* * *

In all of his other dreams, the first thing Harry was aware of was awareness itself, knowing full well that he dreamed. This was like the other dreams. He knew he was dreaming, but of what he could not be certain of. The room he stood in was fuzzy around the edges, as if its existence was only the shadow of a long-lost memory.

It was a bare room of dark oak, dark and dismal because of the lack of light. Everything was tinted a deep gray. Before Harry, in the very middle of the room, floated the Mirror of Rebounds in mid-air. The mirror itself spun forward, a small whirl of white light not too unlike the supernova Harry had pulled Francis Potter through. He squinted at it. Shapes and colors darted sporadically through the whirl of white light. They moved too fast for him to distinguish what they were.

"AAAAIIIIIIYYYAAAA!"

Harry jumped at the loud shriek of agony behind him and squeaked as a hurled bottle passed through him and slammed into an invisible barrier that surrounded the spinning Mirror of Rebounds. The bottle shattered upon impact and the shards of glass fell to the floor and the dark red liquid contained in the bottle splattered everywhere. Harry whirled around in time to realize that someone had just stumbled through him.

With the random thought of how Severus the ghost must feel, Harry looked over his shoulder to see a thin body, wrapped in only a sheet with sweat glistening on the bare skin, clumsily fall to its knees before the spinning Mirror of Rebounds. Harry winced in sympathy as blood stained the sheets where glass shards sliced viciously through both sheet and skin.

"Stop it," a man's voice mumbled. One hand reached out to press forlornly against the invisible barrier. The body slumped despairingly against the barrier. "Please, n-no more." Shoulders shook as heavy sobs racked the thin body. "I-I can't take any more of this!" As Harry observed the scene, he noticed how pallid skin was drawn tightly over bones, how every rib was clearly outlined, and spinal vertebrae were prominent. Harry slowly walked around to the other side of the mirror to get a glimpse of the man's face.

Reddish-brown hair, liberally sprinkled with gray, hung in limp, unhealthy strands around the gaunt, yellowed face. Years of drinking and years of living with the reason for drinking had taken a horrible toll on Cousin Quigley. The man's sunken eyes were wide as he stared mesmerized with morbid fascination at what the Mirror of Rebounds told him. Tears streamed down his face. Harry felt a heavy weight settle upon his shoulders as Cousin Quigley openly cried at what he saw.

"What is it?" Harry asked softly, wanting to know what had driven his ancestor to such a state.

"The destruction of the Snape family," a voice said softly behind him. Harry reeled around and saw a woman with black hair and a pair of the sharpest blue eyes he had ever beheld. "Or, more specifically, Tom Riddle's first _open_ strike against the Potter family, for therein is the first wave of destruction against the Snape family. The results of my children's deaths were devastating, but it is so much worse to see how it took place." She stood before Harry, no taller than him, leaning on a curved cane. "I never had the strength to see for myself what truly happened. It was too much, even, to walk through the carnage, wading through the blood and sorting through the scattered body parts."

There was something as unsure of her existence as the room in which they stood. She was handsome rather than beautiful due to the masculinity of her jaw, curve of her forehead, and shape of her eyes.

"Are you Pandora?" Harry asked.

"You're dreaming, lad," she said. "Pay attention. Every dream the Mirror grants is another piece of the puzzle. When you begin to understand the pattern of the dreams, then the pieces will fall together and you shall have a picture."

"What do you mean?"

The woman ignored Harry as she limped around him to the back of Cousin Quigley. "Poor Cousin Quigley," she said as she gazed upon him with compassionate eyes. "He understood all too well of what the future contained but no one believed him. He is the only member of the family to ever look into the future; they accused him of lying because he never fit in with the family. They claimed it was his way of getting attention. However, to see what would happen produces great damage to his gentle soul." She smiled wryly. "One could say he is the black sheep of the family," she said softly as she reached a hand out. It passed through Cousin Quigley as if she too were a ghost. "Too innocent and naive to be sly. Too happy and go-lucky to be manipulative. Too gentle to be harsh."

"The mirror is important, isn't it?" Harry asked. "And Cousin Quigley is the one who knows what to do, isn't he?"

"Hmm." Cousin Quigley, the room, and the Mirror slowly faded away until both the woman and Harry were left standing alone, surrounded only by wispy fog. "Cousin Quigley accepts everything that happens. Who is he, the little mortal Hufflepuff and the perpetual shame of the family, to argue with what is to take place? Because he accepts everything, so does the Mirror of Rebounds show him everything. However, you cannot imagine what he has done to ensure the family's survival. It is the only time he has ever directly fought against what is to be. Though he is not a catalyst, he tries to change reality. But to do that, he must enlist the help of a catalyst."

"Will the mirror show him where you are?"

The woman walked away from Harry, but she threw a look over her shoulder at him that he took as an indication that he was to follow her. "Why am I so important?" she asked. "Why do you need me to do what you are capable of doing?"

Harry stopped. Why _did_ they need Pandora? "Well, because we need you to fight Voldemort."

"But you are the one who defeated him so many years ago." A boulder appeared in the distance and Pandora walked unerringly to it and then twisted around to sit. Harry's eyes were drawn immediately to the base, but nothing was inscribed. "My power is nothing compared to Tom Riddle's." She tapped the base of the boulder with the end of her cane. "Come, sit a while with me. We have only a bit of time before you stop dreaming, and I've many a complex thing to explain."

Harry sat cross-legged at the base of the rock and looked up at his great-grandmother. She gazed off into the distance. "Power is an odd thing," Pandora said. "Throughout the ages, the symbol of strength has been fire, which is true, and many people think that strength is also power. Not so. Strength is reliable and power is not. The true symbol of power is water, for it always shifts and is rarely steady. Water is not stable in the slightest, as power often isn't. Time is air, for air is the one element no one may completely destroy or control, and time cannot be controlled. Air is space, and space is as endless as time itself. Time is space, space is air, and air is time. Earth is chance, not because there were no other elements to be tied together, but because earth isn't as secure as we would believe, and people rarely think of chances any more than they think of earth's instability. You don't wonder that by crossing the road you will be run over and killed anymore than you wonder if the ground you stand upon thinly veils a hole through which you could fall. We trust the earth as much as we do not think of the consequences our choices.

"When you combine the four elements, reality is created. Power. Strength. Chance. Time. Fire. Water. Earth. Air. Reality cannot not exist without one or the other. The Mirror of Rebounds must use all four so the only thing it is able to reveal that which is real. Used in separate combinations, certain things will happen. All things that exist do so in a certain combination, and Tom Riddle is one of the rarest of combinations. He is primarily time, built upon a foundation of strength, tempered with chance, and fed by power. This means he has the draw of everything. I am primarily power, built upon a foundation of chance, tempered with strength, and fed with time. This has given me the ability to be highly influential – or manipulative- as was my father. Indeed, it is a common-enough combination in the Snape family.

"When strength is switched with power in a structure such as mine, it is the most common combination to be found in reality. Primary is the success rate of that element. When a creature is primarily time, it means they are infinite by what they are fed. Tom Riddle was mortal, but he has a far greater capacity for power with a foundation strong and stable enough to hold it than almost all others.

"This is why Tom Riddle is the strongest Dark Lord anyone living has ever seen. Many of his ilk who came before had a foundation of power, which is unstable, and combine that with chance, they were not meant to last long in their conquest of domination or success. Tom Riddle is feared and known more than other Dark Lords throughout time, though he certainly is not the only one who had such a combination. He is, undoubtedly, one of the the strongest though, and this I suppose one may attest to his bloodlines. He possesses an endless supply of power, made his own choices without pressure, and all of this was stable because he was held together by strength. Such an odd combination, truly, but utterly powerful is he! Such power has not been known since Merlin himself, who is not a wizard, mind you, but a druid."

"What's the difference between a druid and a wizard?"

"A druid is a person of magic who has two or more elements of the same sort. A wizard is a person of magic that has all four elements. Because Merlin was primarily time and tempered with time, so was infinity and space doubled."

"What about the other elements?"

"Merlin did not have chance. Because he had two elements of time, he created his own destiny and his own fate, and he shaped the destinies and fates of those he touched. He did not _need_ chance. He saw the future and all that it held as easily as he recalled the past and all that remained within it."

"I don't understand."

"Very few do." Pandora smiled tenderly at Harry and reached out to play with a single lock of his hair. "Time's enemy is chance. When you are a primary creature of chance, time must bend to chance's whims. Destiny is not set in stone, and fate can always be altered, for chance is much, much stronger than time. Time is the what-will-be, the what-has-been, and the what-is. Chances forces what-if into the picture and breaks up the what-will-be into the what-can-be. However, two elements of time together are strong enough to control chance, _unless_ there is a catalyst, which is where chance is supported and backed by everything else. Creatures of chance are the catalysts and the wildcards. Because _your_ primary element is chance, Tom Riddle, even powerful as he is, had to bend to your catalytic element. He was destined to succeed in his domination, and you, my little wildcard, came along and destroyed that what-will-be with your what-if."

Harry irritably rubbed his scar as he tried to work through the cloud of confusion within his mind. None of what Pandora told him made sense. On some level, he supposed a genius would understand what was being said, but Harry freely admitted that he was most certainly not a genius. "But, if druids only have three elements then technically they don't exist. Reality has to have all four elements."

"Very good; you _are_ paying attention. And it is when something _that should_ not exist occurs in reality, so then is reality distorted. But merely because it does not exist on the plane of existence does not mean that it does not subsist. As Da has said, there is an exception to every rule. It only means that this subsistence is not affected by reality, for reality can only affect that which _does_ exist."

"But if it doesn't exist, how can it subsist?"

"Magic itself is not a thing of existence. It is too remote, for magic does not contain the element of time - it has two elements of chances. However, there is no denying the existence of magic. It distorts reality."

"Is that what magic is? A distortion of reality? Is that what everything is that doesn't exist but subsists anyway?"

"Indeed. That's how the unexplainable happens."

"So, technically, magic doesn't exist and neither do witches or wizards."

"Yes, and no. Witches and wizards - that is truly an explanation for another time because the complexity of that is beyond this simple lesson. But the reason why Muggles have a difficult time in believing in magic is because magic does not fit into their concept of reality or existence. Such uncertainty causes distrust, confusion, and mental instability. Their minds cannot cope with the idea of subsistence without existence. For the Muggles' sake, and for our sake, the wizarding world strives to hide itself."

"Oh." Harry plugged that information with what he already knew. "But, how does this mean that we don't need you?"

"You don't. What good would I be, Harry? I betrayed the trust Tom Riddle had granted me, and, once shattered, trust cannot be replaced. I am not powerful enough to fight him. The only person who _is_ strong enough to directly face Tim Riddle and destroy him _and live_ is Tom Riddle. It is commonly said that you are your own worst enemy, and in this case, it is quite true."

"But what about your box? What of that?"

Something gleamed in Pandora's eyes. She turned away from him. "That," she said as she folded her hands over the top of her cane, "is what will lead you to Tom Riddle's worst enemy."

Harry looked at Pandora. If he was confused earlier, it was nothing compared to now. If he understood his great-grandmother correctly, the way to defeat Voldemort was by making Voldemort do it. How could the Pandora's Box lead them to Voldemort so this Voldemort could kill Voldemort? Why would Voldemort willingly kill himself? "I don't understand," he said again. "How do we do that? Where do I come into this? If I'm the catalyst, shouldn't I be the one to defeat him?"

"When reality is distorted, it becomes weak and flimsy. Many a time it breaks apart and repairs itself because that is all it can do. Yet there are two broken parts of reality that repair themselves, and so thus reality becomes two. Then those realities become weak and flimsy, so they must break apart and repair themselves. That creates four realities, and so on and so forth. Reality is primarily time and is fed by chance. It possesses a foundation of strength and is tempered by power. Because it is primarily time, a catalyst easily forces reality to bend to what it is fed. That is why there are many different realities, and in each one there is something different."

Pandora's gaze flickered to Harry. "Tom Riddle is tempered by chance. Chance molded him, and because he is a creature primarily of time, he had a free choice in all his chances; indeed, he had a greater control over chance than many others. Because of time, he knew exactly what sort of reality those chances would create. He was never forced to side with a choice but for a single catalyst's action." She slowly reached out and traced Harry's scar. "Tom is primarily time and is tempered by chance. You are primarily chance and tempered by time. Your elements are the opposite of Tom's. You are mirror images of one another. A mirror casts an inverse reflection, and thus you co-exist."

"So Tom can kill Tom, but I can't because I am like Tom?"

Pandora's eyes bore into Harry's. Hers were solemn and subdue while his were bewildered. "When the object is destroyed, the shadow is obliterated."

A shiver ran down Harry's spine at his great-grandmother's ominous words. "But how was I protected the first time Voldemort was, well, sort of destroyed?"

"A piece of Tom existed within you at the time, enough to tie you together, thus assuring you of survival. Yet it also assured the survival of Riddle. In all the other realities you exist within, you came upon that piece and survived through different means. Yet your fate to die will always remain the same. When the object is destroyed, the shadow is obliterated."

"How? How did a little bit of Tom get into me and survive?"

Everything froze as time stopped suddenly. It resumed, but Harry recognized that something strange had just happened. Pandora smiled slyly. "That," she said secretly, "remains to be seen. I only show you what I want."

Harry frowned. "What _you_ want?" Harry's surroundings began to fade to darkness. Pandora's eyes glowed with a dark power.

"What I want," she repeated. Her voice became thick and muddled, overlaid by another's. Harry stumbled back. Her image superimposed itself over the fading surroundings, large and intimidating. "Since you do not come to me, I must come to you." She pointed a finger at him. "Therefore you learn on _my_ terms."

The surroundings exploded into a maelstrom of jagged puzzle pieces over a black background. Harry slipped and fell backwards. He scrambled wildly to escape the maelstrom, but its pull was too strong. He found himself swept violently downward in to the spiraling vortex. Images and scenes shot past him almost too quickly for him to comprehend.

A baby wrapped in the colors of baby blue and deep green. Pandora as she mulled over scraps of paper in a mud hut where only a single candle cast light. James Potter with a cup in his hands as he was seated at a kitchen table across from a much younger and rather worried-looking Severus Snape. A human-looking Voldemort with his hands clenched tightly enough to draw blood where the fingernails broke through the skin of his palms as he gazed at a Muggle village. Francis Potter as he stared wide-eyed at a length of metal that flew towards him. Dumbledore many years younger as he watched a young Tom Riddle study intently.

The images swirled past Harry, trapped the maelstrom just as he was. Then one scene floated downward, not trapped as the others were as they swirled around wildly in the precarious circle, but free-falling down the middle where everything was still and calm. Harry tumbled around wildly head over heels, but his eyes were captivated by what the scene showed.

Cousin Quigley gently led a boy who could not have been any more than three years old to the spinning Mirror of Rebounds. The boy clutched at Cousin Quigley's hand, frightened of the supernova of light the Mirror of Rebounds gave off. In the very middle of it was a long street, dismal and run-down. Cousin Quigley dropped to his knees before the boy and pulled him into a tight hug. Tears streamed down his face and fell upon the child's black curls. Grief and misery seemed to ooze from every pore of Cousin Quigley's body. He picked the child up and faced the Mirror of Rebounds. With a quick, desperate kiss planted on the boy's hair, Cousin Quigley ruthlessly shoved him into the supernova of light. The child stumbled to his hands and knees on the street floor and looked back at Cousin Quigley. His eyes were wide with terror. He jumped to his feet and ran back to jump through, but smashed against an invisible barrier instead.

Cousin Quigley turned away as the Mirror of Rebounds stopped spinning. The stark anguish in his eyes and the way his lip trembled told of a heart shattering into thousands of pieces. The last thing Harry saw of the boy's face as the Mirror of Rebounds faded with the supernova of color was a look of bewildered pain and unshed tears trapped in two black eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

Narcissa and Draco sat together in the family drawing room, casually doing their own thing in the presence of the other. They often did it during the summer. It was often too uncomfortable to make conversation together, so they stayed in the same room and did something that could relatively termed as togetherness or, at least, silent companionship. Draco doodling on a pad of paper as he sat cross-legged in a pink overstuffed easy chair. Narcissa sat beside him in an identical chair, reading _The Daily Prophet_.

"WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON SNAPE HE'S GOING TO WISH HE NEVER HAD AN AFTERLIFE-"

Narcissa and Draco jumped at the explosion of sound, and then exchanged a quick, panicked look. "Professor Snape said if there was screaming from your bedroom we were to ignore it," Draco nervously said to his mother.

"-I'LL BRING HIM BACK TO LIFE SO I CAN KILL HIM WITH MY BARE HAND-"

Narcissa's eyes were wide behind her reading glasses. "Grandmother has expressed a desire to see you," she replied.

"-I'LL FORCE-FEED HIM MULTIPLE HOUSE ELF UNMENTIONABLES-"

"Do you suppose she would mind if we dropped in for tea?"

"-I'LL MAKE NAGINI CHEW ON HIS BONES AFTER I DISCOVER WHERE VOLDEMORT DUMPED HIS BODY-"

"Not at all." Narcissa and Draco jumped to their feet, hurried over to the small fireplace, and grabbed the small pot of Floo Powder. "I'm very sure my mother will welcome us." They tossed handfuls of Floo into the fireplace and disappeared.

"-SOMEONE GET ME AND THE FURNITURE OFF THE CEILING RIGHT! _NOW! … _NARCISSA? DRACO! ... **WHERE THE HELL IS EVERYBODY?!**_"  
_

* * *

"Baby?" A familiar woman's voice. "Are you all right? I'm sure Grandfather did not mean to hit you so hard."

Harry opened his eyes. Persons and things were nondescript blobs in his blurry vision. A particularly large one, dark and fuzzy around the edges, loomed directly in his sight. One slim peach line extended downward and a hand brushed across his forehead.

One part of Harry's brain decided that he needed glasses. The other part of his brain was still trying to recall the make of the broom that just mowed him over.

The hand moved back. "How many fingers am I holding up?" Harry squinted at the blob before him.

"Fingers?" His voice emerged from his throat in a croak.

There was a long pause. "Where do you hurt the most?" the woman asked.

"My head."

"Ah! No damage done then!" A hand plucked at his sleeve before wrapping firmly around his bicep. A mighty heave, and Harry was swaying slightly off-balanced from side to side on his feet. He leaned against the small body pressed against his own.

"Can't see," he grumbled as he squinted again.

"That's because you aren't wearing your glasses, Harry. Grandfather, would you hand me the - thank you." Something cool and round was pressed into his hands. Harry paused a moment to think of how his glasses were larger than these, but he put them on anyway. The world came into sharp focus. Harry twisted his head to look at the person supporting him.

It was the little girl from one of his dreams. Small and dark, he recognized her as his "Mom."

Sort of.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, peering closely at her. She looked startled at what he said. After a moment, her lower lip trembled and she burst into tears.

"My baby has amnesia!" she wailed. One arm flung wide and a single finger pointed accusingly at the brawny dark-haired youth standing beside her. "And it's all your fault!"

The youth's face scrunched up thoughtfully. "My fault? But I didn't hit him _that_ hard!"

Harry sighed and patted the girl's shoulder. "It's not that I've forgotten you," he said. "I'm just wondering who you really are. I mean, my mother had red hair, didn't she?"

**_Now_**_ what is Mom's problem…?! Hey! What are you - oh, never mind. Just stay out of my head, would you? _

WHAM!

"ACH!" Harry bolted upright in bed, hand clutching at his pounding chest.

"So nice of you to finally join the world of the living," said a sarcastic voice to his right. Harry squinted at the direction and saw the blur that was his uncle. "Next time, do be sure to visit every twenty-four hours. It's only polite, after all."

"What?" Harry felt around for his glasses. Severus pressed them into his hand and he put them on.

"Today is Thursday. You went to bed late Saturday evening."

"Oh." Harry looked around at his surroundings. He was in the infirmary again. "Oh." He groaned. "Why is it always me?" he muttered. He flopped onto his back and scrubbed his face with his hands. He froze. Harry sat upright and twisted around to peer at the wooden plaque just above his head.

_Reserved for Harry Potter,_ it read.

Harry choked. He looked elsewhere not at the plaque. To his left was a very large stack of books. Francis Potter peered curiously over them at Harry. Like Harry, Francis wore glasses, but his were much thicker. An ancient pair of flight goggles was perched on top of his rumpled blond hair. Looking at them, Harry suspected the goggles were a strong part of Francis' image. Other than the goggles, the man only wore a pair of tie-down slacks and a very large bandage around his torso. "I had an odd dream," Harry said as he studied Francis.

"It must have been odd," Francis replied agreeably. He put down the book he had been reading and walked over to Harry's bed. He sat down on the edge. "You woke up as if you'd been shot out of the barrel of a gun."

"What happened?" Severus asked. "Was it Voldemort?"

"No. Well, sort of," Harry hastened to amend. "The first part of it was sort about him. I didn't wake up from that though. It was when I got booted out of my own head again."

"By what?" Francis asked.

"Myself."

Severus glared at him, but before he could say anything, Harry quickly added, "And no, I didn't have pickles before I went to bed!"

Severus turned away with a pout on his face. Francis blinked. "Did I miss something?"

Harry leaned forward. "You're my grandfather," he said with a hint of awe. Francis looked immediately uncomfortable.

"Um, may we forego the grandfather part?" Francis asked anxiously. "After all, I'm only thirty-four years old. Being called grandfather makes me feel so old." He smiled nervously at Harry with a flutter of his long-fingered hands. "I wouldn't mind if you called me Francis."

Harry stared at Francis and then slowly sank against his pillows. "I dreamt," he said slowly as he tried to gather confused thoughts together, "of Pandora and the Mirror of Rebounds. Pandora - I think it's Pandora, or it might not have been, she said she was the Mirror, well, I think she did - she said a lot of things about the mirror, what it was capable, Cousin – um…" Harry shot a nervous look at Severus. He did not know if he should tell his uncle. While Harry could guess that the child pushed through was Severus, he was unsure of why _or how_ Cousin Quigley could have pushed him through the Mirror of Rebounds. Not to mention Harry was very sure that he did not want to say anything while Severus was presently in a poor mood.

"How are the portraits?" he asked, swiftly changing the subject.

A cool calm descended suddenly over Severus and Francis. Harry blinked in confusion at the swift change from curiosity to subsided patience. _Uh oh,_ he thought to himself.

"About the portraits," Francis said with the same tone parents used when explaining to their disillusioned children that sorry Junior, but Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny do_ not_, indeed, exist. "You see, Harry," Francis hesitated as he searched for proper words, "portraits are dependent upon their frames. When the frames are obliterated, the portraits are destroyed."

"In other words," Severus cut in, "the relatives who bothered us from the time they appeared from the Mirror of Rebounds technically were not real. They haven't even existed since Voldemort burned Dinsmore."

"But-"

"Harry," Francis leaned forward, "the moment I awoke, the portraits faded away. We have not seen a single one since then, and it is just as well, since they weren't the _real_ portraits, but instead someone's very elaborate hoax."

* * *

Harry remained thoughtfully silent afterwards. He told neither Francis nor Severus of his dreams. He mentally sorted through everything Pandora had told him in the dream, and tried to stick it together with what he remembered of the portraits. He did not like the idea of losing his family so soon after just meeting them. How cruel and unfair that, after so long, he should finally get a shadow of his family only to learn they did not exist.

On the other hand, they had appeared from the Mirror of Rebounds itself, so perhaps the Mirror of Rebounds was telling them something. Harry frowned at that thought. On the other hand, that did not seem to fit in with what the Mirror of Rebounds was supposed to do. Still and all, if the Mirror of Rebounds did produce his ancestors, the ancestors certainly would not tell them all that the mirror could do.

Harry sighed and flipped onto his side. Francis was curled up on his bed, his interest centered on the back issues of _The Daily Prophet._ "Where's Uncle Severus?" he asked softly. Francis barely stirred from his reading.

"He said something about the Ancient Roman Empire having more than 150 holidays in their calendar and how he decided he would honor them."

"Good grief." Harry flipped over onto his other side as he spared a moment of sympathetic pity for Sirius. He stared across the room at the Mirror of Rebounds. It no longer called to him as it once did. Harry had a sneaking suspicion the mirror had told him all that it wanted to tell him thus far, and did not need to call out to him anymore. "You know," he said when a thought suddenly occurred to him, "I think we've been _had_."

"Hmm?" Francis turned a page and Harry sat upright.

"Uncle Severus said you were brilliant."

Francis peeked over _The Daily Prophet_ at Harry. His eyes were huge behind his thick glasses and his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

"Maybe the mirror made me pull you through because we would need you, and maybe you died, but a new reality was created because you no longer existed, but the actual reality continued where you _had_ died. Maybe I pulled you through so you could explain the concept of reality and the elements and how things could subsist but not exist."

Francis blinked several times. "I'm afraid you just lost me."

Harry scrubbed his face with one free hand, and then leaned forward. "I had a dream of Pandora telling me some things about the mirror, and how, in order to defeat Voldemort, we need to find Voldemort. Something about him being his own worst enemy. She told me why Voldemort was powerful. I couldn't really understand what she meant, but what she told me must be what we need to do to make this work. I don't understand it though, so I need a genius to explain."

"Really."

"Yes. Which is probably why _you_ are here."

Francis slowly set the newspaper he was reading down and stood up. "Let me grab some paper and a quill so I can write this down." He stood up and walked over to the cupboard Madam Pomfrey stored her medical records. He grabbed a few blank rolls of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell. He carried these over to the bed and sat down before Harry. He unrolled one parchment and licked the end of his quill before dipping it in the inkwell. "I," he explained as he scribbled something on the parchment, "am going to make a record of what you are telling me." He glanced up from the work at Harry. "Go ahead and start; I'm ready."

Harry started to explain, but everything took a great while to relate, as Francis had Harry repeat several things many times over. He asked of specific details of the surroundings and the events that led up to Pandora. Upon hearing Harry mention Cousin Quigley, Francis' hand froze in mid-writing.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

"Harry." Francis' movement was precise and deliberate as he set the quill and parchment to the side. "Did Severus ever tell you that Cousin Quigley was never painted?"

Harry was silent for a long moment. "No," he said finally, "though I suppose it's rather odd how Cousin Quigley was able to appear in my wristwatch." Francis folded his arms before himself and thoughtfully regarded the infirmary's floor. Something clicked into place within Harry's mind. "Cousin Quigley is a family ghost," Harry said flatly. Francis nodded. "Uncle Severus said you were able to successfully perform the only anti-ghost charm in existence. Was it because of Cousin Quigley?"

Francis smiled at Harry. "Yes and no," he said softly. Sorrow appeared within his turquoise eyes, casting a pall of despair over the man. Harry suddenly realized how out of place Francis must have felt, going from being a man with three teenaged children and a wife, to several decades into the future where he learned his family had been almost completely destroyed by the man he had known as Tom Riddle. They were dead, and Francis was shell-shocked – the reality hadn't reached him completely yet, but when it did, Harry knew that Francis was going to break, and break hard.

Francis drew one knee up to his chest and wrapped an arm around it. "Did Severus ever tell you how Pandora and I got married?"

"He did mention something about her marrying you for your invisible cloak."

"Did she now?" Francis snickered. "Not quite. You see, she and I were both in the same year, but she was a Slytherin and I Gryffindor. She was not like the other Slytherins who attempted to humiliate and belittle Gryffindors every chance they had; for the most part, she ignored everyone. I thought her to be rather snobby for it, far too _superior_ to even bother us. However, that changed our third year. It was the year we selected Divination for one of our new subjects. So few students signed up for it that all third years of all four of the Houses were lumped together. I wanted to see exactly _how_ Divination worked. Minerva McGonagall and I were the only two Gryffindors, there were three Hufflepuffs, three Ravenclaws, and two Slytherins with Pandora being one. We pretty much ignored one another even in class, but four weeks into the school year, Pandora, lugging along this large crystal ball and her social calendar booklet, marched right over to the Gryffindor table during breakfast, and sat down beside me.

"The entire table fell silent and everyone stared in shock. Minerva, who sat across the table from me, looked like she wanted to kick Pandora under the table. No one had ever before known a Slytherin to sit at the Gryffindor table, and we immediately suspected mischief. Pandora did not seem worried in the least of what others thought of her. She set her things on the table before her, looked at me, and said, 'I had the most interesting vision.'

"I didn't say anything. Pandora pointed at the crystal ball and said, 'According to the crystal ball, you and I are to fall madly in love and get married.' I thought this was just another cruel Slytherin joke, but before I could say anything, Pandora turned to Minerva and said, 'And you are the person who plays matchmaker, setting me up with Francis.' Of course, you can imagine how Minerva must have felt!"

Harry could. He grinned at the thought of McGonagall's outraged suspicion. "So what happened?"

"Pandora opened her social calendar and flipped through it. 'Now,' she said, 'I am free the next Hogsmeade weekend trip.' She looked at Minerva. 'You are going to set up a blind date between Francis and me where we shall meet up at the Three Broomsticks and have dinner together. I'll pay, of course, since I suspect Francis is dirt-poor.' That little comment," Francis added as he brushed the fingertips of his hands together, "did not sit too well."

"Did you go?"

"No! Certainly not! After we got back from the trip and were walking to the entrance of the Gryffindor Tower, Pandora smacked me over the head with a rolled up newspaper. 'You,' she said, the very picture of a scorned lover, 'never appeared!' Oh, she was upset! She chewed me up and spit me out for rejecting her, and then she got after Minerva for neglecting her matchmaking duty. During the entire time she ranted, it seemed the whole of Gryffindor Tower came investigating, and then a group of fifth and sixth year Slytherins drifted in to see what Pandora Snape was up to. And when Pandora said she expected me to take her to some student ball in Hogsmeade, Minerva exploded.

" 'Just because you're rich doesn't mean you can tell others what to do!' Minerva exclaimed. Seeing at how it was now between two girls notorious not only for their stubbornness, but also for vicious revenge, everyone scrambled out of their throwing range.

" 'Who,' said Pandora as she looked at Minerva with a very cold expression, 'are _we_ to argue with destiny?' With that, she spun about on her heel and marched away, the very air of wounded dignity! And that was how I met Cousin Quigley. Pandora knew one of the reasons why we didn't trust her was because she was a Slytherin, so she sent over the one Snape who was never in Slytherin or Ravenclaw to convince us that the Snape family was not awful. Poor Cousin Quigley, Hufflepuff that he was, wailed of how cruel Pandora was for making him bother us; he did help with convince us that the Snape family was not _terrible, _per say, though we did come to the conclusion that the Snape family _was indeed _awful. Every evening for three weeks, he moped around in the third years' dormitories and the common room. He was drunk most of the time, utterly depressing to be around, and during the day he would cry of how life was so terrible, even if he was dead, and he did so in the line of my vision." Francis pointed at his glasses and Harry nodded in sympathy.

"Was that when you cast the anti-ghost charm?"

Francis's merriment dissipated. "No. I felt sorry for Cousin Quigley, but I did not hate him. What I did do was go to Pandora the day before the ball and say, 'What do I have to do to get rid of your dead ancestor?' I asked her in the library while she did a research paper on some sort of Dark Arts project, and she looked at me a long time before she actually said anything.

" 'You don't like my relative?' she asked. 'Dear me. That simply does not bode well with our marriage. Well, I imagine you'll get used to him. Cousin Quigley would not have to bother you if you willingly followed the path destiny has created for you and I, and take me to the ball. You have three days to come to your senses.'

" 'What if I don't?' I asked in return. 'Will Cousin Quigley still bother me?'

" 'Oh no. I will consider Cousin Quigley to be a lost cause, and will instead sic my uncle Hector Snape on you. At least Hector could teach you to dance.' She looked at me, waiting to see what I would say to that. I decided _anything_ had to be better than Cousin Quigley. Upon hearing what Pandora had said, Cousin Quigley begged me to reconsider. He said that Uncle Hector was a horrid person and not someone I would _want_ haunting me, dance lessons or naught. He, Cousin Quigley, could teach me some rain dances he knew from his wife if I really wanted some lessons. When I saw how frightened Cousin Quigley was, I thought it would do no harm to take Pandora. After that, Cousin Quigley left, Pandora insisted I help her with her Divination homework, and the rest, as one would say, is history. Pandora wasn't the snob I had thought her to be - though she was a tad arrogant; I figured that in with her upbringing though - and when her mother died in our fifth year, Minerva and Pandora began to spend time together. Though they didn't become best friends, they did get along. And that was where the Bloody Baron comes into the matter."

Harry grimaced. "Uh oh."

"Exactly. He cared little for the idea of Pandora setting her heart and sights upon a Muggle-born Gryffindor, and he tormented me all during my sixth and seventh school years. When I first met Severus Snape the Senior, I learned that Pandora had been engaged to marry her distant cousin, Tacitus Malfoy. She informed her father she would find her own husband, thank-you-very-much. After we were married, the Bloody Baron stopped haunting Hogwarts and started to haunt _me_ instead. Needless to say, I was more desperate than anything else when I preformed the anti-ghost spell." Francis stopped speaking and cautiously looked around. "And it sort of frightens me that the Bloody Baron hasn't done anything since I've appeared."

Harry shrugged. "He's probably forgotten about you. It's been fifty years, hasn't it?"

Francis waved his hand as he picked up his quill and parchment. "Are you kidding?" he asked scornfully. "Snapes never forget."

"Snape?" Harry blinked. "You mean the Bloody Baron-"

"Is Uncle Hector Snape." Francis looked at Harry. "He is responsible for a greater part of the family fortune through swindling, heavy-handed dealing, lying, stealing, and quite often brutally forceful in attaining the money; mostly on the high seas, or so it's been said. I understand he was very unpopular with most people. Because of this, he died a rather gruesome death. His younger brother, Iggy somethin'-or-another Snape, inherited his fortune." Francis sighed. "Though the portraits were destroyed when Dinsmore burnt, Cousin Quigley, as a family ghost, was not."

"Cousin Quigley acted as if the other portraits _did_ exist though."

"I know. That's what has me worried. Anyway, continue. It does me no good to contemplate the matter if I don't have all the information. It's not wise to wonder and theorize when the answer may exist in something you haven't told me as of yet."

* * *

"Wait, back up there." Francis looked up from his writing and studied Harry closely. "Is that _exactly_ what Pandora said about Cousin Quigley?"

"Yes." Harry cocked his head to the side. "Why?"

"Isn't odd how Pandora should speak of Cousin Quigley in present-tense?"

Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't know. The entire dream was odd."

Francis sighed. He reread what he wrote and then looked at Harry again. "You also earlier he appeared old and unhealthy."

"He was underfed and looked sick."

"And yet the Cousin Quigley you have seen in your pocket watch and in your glasses looks young?"

"And healthy." Harry thought about that. "Except when he's drunk. Then he looks, er, drunk."

"That's odd." Francis absently scratched his cheek with his quill. He did not notice the ink smearing on his skin. "I remember him being the same too, but ghosts retain the appearance they died with. Unless, of course, he used a sort of youth potion before he died."

"Maybe there's an exception to the rule with the Snapes," Harry said as he stared at the ink on Francis' face.

"I don't believe so. Otherwise Hector Snape wouldn't look so ghastly, and I understand that he was a very vain man while alive."

"Maybe he likes being gruesome. Adds to the image and all that."

"I don't know…"

"I could go and ask him," Harry said teasingly. The disapproving look Francis gave him in reply made him wince. "Just kidding! Just kidding!"

Francis pursed his lips together. "Severus told me Voldemort killed him. Do you know how?"

"I think it was with the Avada Kedavra curse. It's how Voldemort killed a lot of people." Harry remembered Cedric, and tried to squash the wave of depression that suddenly rose upward.

* * *

"Do you understand what Pandora meant when she explained the concept of reality and how it needed all these elements in order to exist? I sure don't." Harry tried to crane his neck and look at Francis' writing.

"I do. Finish telling me all of this and I'll explain the concept with colored inks."

* * *

"_Pandora_ was the mirror?"

Harry shrugged listlessly. "I don't know. I don't understand that bit at all. Actually, I don't think that I understand anything that she said."

"But if she was the mirror telling you all of this - wait." Francis swiftly scanned his writing. "You mentioned earlier how you thought maybe the portraits were actually shadows of the past that the Mirror of Rebounds created. What they said completely contradicts with what Pandora and Cousin Quigley said…" He scratched his cheek with his quill and got ink on his face again. "Unless the Mirror of Rebounds was trying not to arouse suspicion in Severus."

"Who has difficulty trusting anyone."

"I know. He told me about his past while you were dreaming all of this." Francis massaged his bent neck. "But that still doesn't explain why Cousin Quigley acted as if the portraits were real."

* * *

"He _pushed_ the child _through_ the Mirror of Rebounds?" Francis' eyes were the widest Harry had ever seen, and the disbelieving look on his face looked comical with the smear of ink along his cheek. Harry nodded.

"Do you suppose the child was Severus?" Harry asked.

Francis' disbelief dissolved into fascination. "He may be. Do you wonder _why_ he would though?"

Harry shrugged. "To save the Snapes?" he suggested.

"I don't know. The child would have to be a Snape in order to save them, and Cousin Quigley is far too soft to put a child through what Severus' life in the slums." Francis frowned thoughtfully. "When you stop and think of what Pandora said earlier, of how Cousin Quigley tried to rectify the fate of the destruction of the Snape family, it makes sense. It does seem to be a rather desperate act." He glanced quickly over his writing. "But what of the show of affection?"

"Maybe they really knew one another."

Francis chewed the inside of his lip. "Maybe Cousin Quigley could see what Severus would go through." He began to write. "As far as we can guess, the only reason why Cousin Quigley pushed the child through the Mirror of Rebounds was to save the Snapes; you and Severus both say that he saved your life more than once. However, why would be put him in the slums? That's expecting a wolf to protect as the lamb."

"Slums?" Harry jumped in surprise and Francis spilled his ink as Severus floated through the infirmary's floor. Severus glared at them suspiciously. "Are you two talking about me?" he demanded warily, black eyes shifting from Harry's guilty expression to Francis, who hastened to mop up the ink before it stained through the bed sheets into the mattress itself.

"We were discussing a dream," Harry said. He peered closely at Severus. "How did you die?" he asked suddenly.

Severus moved his hand to protectively cover the line of his throat. "Why?" he demanded.

"Was it with the Killing Curse?"

Severus remained silent for a long while. His eyes darted back and forth between Francis and Harry. "Voldemort cut my throat," he said finally. "My blood helped him gain back his human appearance, and he would not have had it wasted by killing me with a curse."

"Let me see your throat," Francis directed Severus. Severus glared at his family before he reluctantly bared the underside of his neck to them.

"It's not cut," Harry whispered.

"So?" Severus glared at them.

"We were discussing the theory of dying and retaining the physical appearance of what you originally were at the time of death," Francis said in explanation.

"So I'm an exception to the rule!" Bewilderment temporarily replaced suspicious anger as Harry and Francis exchanged knowing looks. Severus' expression darkened. He suddenly loomed over Harry, once more the terrifying Potions Master of the Hogwarts Dungeons. Harry cringed and nearly dived under his bed to hide from the black expression on Severus' face. "_What is going on around here_?"

Francis must have been affected by Severus' menacing presence as well, since he hastily stood up and quickly edged away from Severus. "Here." He thrust the roll of parchment he had written Harry's recounting of memories and dreams into Severus' hand. "I'm going to get some colored inks."

Severus glared after him and Harry groaned inwardly as he watched his great-grandfather flee the infirmary. Grumbling under his breath, Severus perched on the edge of Francis' hospital bed and started to read. As Harry stood up to follow after Francis, Severus snapped, "Sit down, Harry!" Harry's knees gave out on him and he collapsed on the bed. He gritted his teeth as Severus went back to his reading.

"Hey," Harry said suddenly. "I was thinking-"

"Impossible." Severus did not look up from his reading. "You're a Gryffindor."

Harry clamped his mouth shut and vowed silence.

After a long while, Francis nervously returned, peering around the corner and flinching when Severus glared at him. He carefully carried a tray with four bottles of ink. Severus tossed the parchment to the side and scowled fiercely at the two Potters as Francis stopped beside Harry. "Well," he said finally, "at least I know what's going on now."

"What do you think?" Harry asked, curious to know what Severus thought. Severus sighed and slumped forward. No longer did he appear as the intimidating fiend who had made Harry's life miserable his first four years at Hogwarts.

"I," he grumbled, "always did wonder where I came from. Now I _know_ some things are better left unknown." He glared at Harry. "Still doesn't tell me anything about my bloodlines though, unless I truly am a Snape. Of course," he muttered

"That," Francis hastened to say, "is _assuming_ you are the child who was pushed onto the slums."

Severus scowled. "And how else could I, a wizard-child, could have wound up in the slums? There was an instant attraction between myself and magic, and Pandora recognized it." He added something else under his breath; it sounded like "curly black hair" was being blistered with multiple curse words.

Francis sat down on the infirmary floor and placed the inks in front of him. "We'll just have to ask Cousin Quigley," he said firmly as he grabbed a blank roll of parchment off his bed. "For now, I'm going to explain to Harry how reality works." He removed the lids from the inkwells and dipped a brush into the one that contained gray ink. "Now, time, chance, power, and strength are what creates reality, but each one also stands for a certain element, such as fire and water, earth and air." He waved his dripping brush about as he explained what he understood. "When you remove one element, there remains an odd number. This creates in imbalance as each element pairs with another to become stronger or cancel each other out. Water and fire cancel each other out; earth and air balance one another out, et cetera. If there are only three elements, one element will dominate the others.

"I wouldn't exactly say this means things that follow the pattern of three or less elements do not exist. It only means that their existence is so shaky and so unreliable that they can hardly be considered real." Francis bit his lip in concentration as he painted a gray lopsided box on the paper and topped it with a slanting triangle. After a moment of consideration, he added a crooked chimney with a curly trail of smoke, windows with cross paneling, and a door. "This is air," he said as he pointed at his painting with his brush. "This is time, infinity, and space all at once."

"It's a house," Severus corrected sardonically as he twisted about to peer closely at Francis' painting. "And a very sloppy one at that."

"Just play along. Tom Riddle's primary element is time, or air. That is what he is made from." No one said anything as Francis wiped the paint of the brush's tip with his hand and then dipped it into the bottle containing red ink. He painted a sloppy platform beneath the house. "This is fire, or strength. Tom Riddle's time has a foundation of strength. The primary element is supported by the foundation and is completely dependant upon it for stability, and strength is a great deal more stable than power. It is not likely that Tom Riddle could set up his own demise, as others in the past have. Therefore, Riddle's time is going to be strong enough to do what he wants." Francis wiped the paint off the brush again and dipped it into the dark green ink. He dabbed little dots all over the house. "These are nails," he explained, "holding the structure together, maintaining its shape, identity if you would."

Severus snorted. "You can't paint worth spit."

"Be quiet. The primary element is tempered with another, and in Riddle's case, his time or infinity is tempered by chance. Chance modifies time to suit what it is being fed by, and since it is being fed with power, chance modified time to suit the need of power. Tom Riddle will _always_ hunger after power, but he has the ability to _control_ this hunger. For the rest of his existence, this is power right here." Francis wiped his brush clean again, dipped it into the blue ink, and drew blue rings around the entire image. "Power is the atmosphere or climate that twists him into the creature that he is, and what he bases his decisions upon. For instance, if you live in a wintery climate and you want to do something, swimming is definitely not an option; in the same manner, to _not_ seek power is _impossible_ for Tom Riddle. Understand?" He looked at his grandchildren expectedly.

Harry blinked in confusion. "Yes. No. Well, kind of."

Severus scratched his head. "Where did you say you 'learned' how to paint?"

Francis sighed. "You made your point already, Severus. I know I can't paint. Anything else you'd like to complain about me?"

"Yes." Severus reached out and prodded Francis' goggles. "Those things look silly."

"Hey." Francis shook his brush warningly at Severus. "No one but no one makes fun of my goggles. Hear?" 


	8. Chapter 8

Francis was cleaning the brush and Severus was studying Francis' sloppy art when Harry said, "Do you suppose we should tell Dumbledore about this?" Turquoise eyes and black eyes glanced quickly at him before going back to what held the interest of their owners. "I mean, he is the Headmaster and all, and he should know what's going on."

"Naturally," Francis agreed. He waved his cleaned brush about in the air. "Dumbledore might even help us figure out where to find a good Tom Riddle." He looked at the brush for a moment before he placed it off to the side. "I need a wand," he said to no one in particular as he capped the inkwells.

"Why?" Harry asked.

Francis looked at him pointedly. "Because it was in my other coat when someone pulled me through time." Harry felt a pang of guilt. Francis smiled gently. He reached out and patted Harry's hand. "It's all right, I'm not mad at you. I imagine my wand was stored in Dinsmore and then was destroyed when the place burnt down." He looked sad. "What a waste," he said softly.

"We can stop at Ollivander's when we go with Harry to pick up his fifth year school things," Severus said firmly.

Harry felt his mood brighten. "Can we go August fifteenth?" he asked eagerly. "I can see Hermione then!"

"August fifteenth is a Catholic holiday," Severus replied. "Unless you want to drag a wanted felon along in public, Miss Granger may want to change her shopping date."

"What about Snuffles?" Harry asked tentatively just as Francis turned to Severus and said, "What is it about you and holidays?"

"If we bring Snuffles along," Severus said stiffly, "I may be forced to embarrass your godfather in such a way that - wait..."

Harry, seeing glee fill Severus' face, hastened to change the subject. He turned to Francis. "I don't see how we are going to manage to move from one reality to another when the mirror can only spin backwards and forwards through the past and future. How are we going to find a good Tom Riddle?"

Francis looked up at the mirror, which sat besides the still scotch-taped Pandora's Box. He stood up, walked over to it, and studied it briefly. "We can get it to spin sideways," he said with a knowing nod.

"How?" Severus asked. "It's hinged on the sides."

Francis nudged the mirror with a finger. It toppled onto its left side. He grinned at his grandsons. "It's on its side now!" he declared brightly. "We'll just have to remember whether we spin to the left or right." Severus and Harry gave him disbelieving looks. Francis' good nature melted into puzzlement. "What?"

Harry pointed at the Mirror of Rebounds. "You just tilted it on its side. How is that supposed to work?"

Severus floated over to the Mirror of Rebounds. "If putting it on its side would have assured others the ability of seeing from one reality to another, I'm sure _someone_ would have thought of it a long time ago."

Francis looked uncertainly at the mirror. "You think?"

Harry walked over to stand beside his dead uncle. "It wouldn't make sense if it could," he said. "I don't even think it can work on its side." He pressed the side of the Mirror of Rebounds, pushing the frame so the mirror rocked slightly on its hinges.

Pandora's Box rattled, and the lid burst open as if Severus had not used half a roll of scotch tape to seal it. Dark green and baby blue light exploded forth. Pain flared in Harry's scar as the Mirror of Rebounds' slight rock whipped around into a shaking whirl. The world warped and twisted, and then shrank into a tunnel of green.

* * *

"Harry." Harry opened his eyes. Severus looked as if he was barely restraining himself from strangling his nephew. It seemed the only thing that prevented him from fulfilling his desire was the knowledge that Harry might die, and would (with Severus' blasted luck) spend his afterlife with Severus. Eternity was far too long to be spent with someone utterly annoying. "I _hate_ you."

Harry sat upright. "What happened?" he asked. He winced at the lancing pain in his forehead, with his scar as the central focus of the pain. He waited a moment for it to ebb. When it did, he looked swiftly around, saw they were still in the infirmary with a rather dazed Francis Potter rubbing his temples beside Harry on the floor, and sighed with relief. "Oh good, nothing."

"That," said Severus behind him, though his uncle floated in front of him with a twisted and dour expression, "remains to be seen."

Harry slowly turned to see another Severus Snape - this one very much alive and his hair straight and greasy - glaring down at him. "Oh bloody hell," Harry muttered.

"Ha!" Everyone turned to look at Francis. He cleaned his thick glasses with a triumphant smile. "_I_ was right! You _can_ jump sideways!"

"Who are you?" The living Snape looked at Francis as if he was something Snuffles had dug up three days after it died and then dragged it home to chew on.

Francis felt around in his pockets. He turned them inside out. "Maybe we should have waited long enough for me to get a new wand from Ollivander's?" He shrugged and ignored Professor Snape's dark expression. He picked up Pandora's Box (now closed) and the Mirror of Rebounds. "We must speak with Dumbledore," he told Harry and Severus as he swept past them to the doors.

"It's amazing how quickly he adapts to the situation," Harry mumbled as he picked himself up off the floor. He cringed at the glare the living Professor Snape gave him. Professor Snape's eyes flickered from Harry's face to Severus the ghost's hair.

"I doubt anything can faze him anymore," Severus the ghost said as he floated after the wizard with rumpled blond hair and goggles. "Not after being pulled through time." Harry hurried after him, but froze with a squeak when a heavy hand settled upon his shoulder and squeezed menacingly.

"_Mister_ Potter."

The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood on end at the sound of the living Professor Snape's voice. He was quite angry. Not I'm-extremely-agitated-with-you-at-this-very-moment angry, but rather I'm-going-to-chew-you-up-and-spit-you-out-before-burying-you-in-a-shallow-grave-where-your-body-will-never-be-discovered angry. Harry turned slowly to face Professor Snape. The hand fell away from his shoulder. He cringed at the look in the cold black eyes.

"Well, it's like this Uncle Severus - er, I mean _Professor_ Snape," Harry began. Professor Snape's eyebrow arched slightly Harry's vocal stumble. Harry could feel his nervousness expanding like a bubble in the middle of his chest. "You're my - well, we're looking for a good Tom Riddle. That's what my great-grandmother Pandora Snape - he's actually Pandora Potter because she married my great-grandfather, Francis Potter, who just hurried through - er, she said we had to. I'm not sure how that is going to actually help us, but that's what she said. At least we think it was her, because if it wasn't, then it was the Mirror of Rebounds, which is a rather strange devise. It showed me your past - at least we think it was you, though not you, but the you that was a ghost who was just here-"

"Stop!" Harry fell silent as Professor Snape waved an irritable hand, then massaged his temples with it. "You're giving me a headache."

Harry felt the bubble of nervousness in his chest pop when he realized how skilled he had become with confusing people. He immediately blamed his family's influence. It was not as if Anastasia or Edwina were around to protest the blame anyway.

"Come, _Mister_ Potter." Professor Snape swept from the infirmary. Harry followed closely behind.

"Where are we going?"

"To see the Headmaster about this mess you have created."

"_I_ created?" Harry protested.

Professor Snape's head twisted, almost as if he were trying to look over his shoulder at Harry but not actually do it. "Whenever there is trouble and you are caught in it, chances are you were the instigator."

Harry pouted. "I resent that implication! I never - eep!"

Professor Snape whirled around so quickly that Harry nearly walked into him. As the taller wizard glowered down upon him, Harry was instantly reminded that this was not his uncle; this was not the man who was fairly used to the idea that he had a familiar relationship with his nephew, the famous Harry Potter.

Wait... _Was_ Harry Severus' nephew in this reality? Given that thought, Harry resolved to remain quiet. As Professor Snape once more led the way to Dumbledore's office, Harry suddenly remembered that it _was_ his fault for him and his relatives being in this situation to begin with. After all, he did activate the Mirror of Rebounds with a single backhanded blow.

On the other hand, it had not exactly been _him_ who threw open Pandora's Box and summoned the power to push them through the Mirror, so it was not _entirely_ his own fault. But why had that happened anyway?

Harry was so involved in his thoughts that he lost track of his surroundings. It was only when Dumbledore cleared his throat and Francis called his name did he blink his eyes and realize he and Professor Snape had reached Dumbledore's office. Harry could not even remember Professor Snape giving the gargoyle the password. He stared at the old headmaster seated behind his desk. Francis stood at one side and his uncle Severus floated at the other. It seemed too much like their old reality. Were it not for the living Professor Snape standing before him, Harry felt that he could believe they never jumped realities.

Dumbledore waved his wand and a tea set appeared before him on the desk. "Tea?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye. Francis set Pandora's Box down and propped the Mirror of Rebounds on its side against it to secure the lid.

"Why, thank you!" Francis plucked a cup of tea up and cradled it close. "You always did have the best tea."

"And you, if I remember correctly, liked your tea with plenty of sugar." Dumbledore waved his hand and a large pot of sugar appeared before him. Without saying a word, Francis began to scoop spoonful after spoonful of sugar into his teacup. "Which reminds me," Dumbledore said softly as his eyes shifted from Harry, to Severus Snape the living professor, to Severus Snape the ghost, to Francis, "didn't you die when you fell off your broom?"

Francis' hand faltered with a spoonful of sugar tilted halfway between his cup and the sugar pot. "I fell off my broom?" he asked in astonishment. The sugar slid off the spoon as he stared at Dumbledore. He jumped when he realized what he did, and then swept the sugar off the desk into his tea cup. He picked up the teakettle and dribbled a minimal amount of tea into the cup. "Why in Merlin's name would I be riding a broom?" He shuddered and Dumbledore shrugged.

"Most interesting accident," he said bemusedly, almost to himself. "You decided to test the broom you created from certain blueprints. You fell off, broke your neck, and died."

"But," Francis shuddered as he attempted to stir his tea, "I _hate_ flying. I can't stand it." He stared glumly down at his teacup, and then took a bite. "Actually, while it may seem to be a surprise to you, I did _not_ die from falling off my broom. At least, I'm from an entirely different reality. Which explains why I'm alive, even though I'm dead. I guess."

"I see." Dumbledore peered at Francis over the frames of his glasses. "That may explain why there are two of Severus currently in my office." He glanced at Harry, but said nothing.

"It's his fault," Severus the ghost said as he pointed one transparent finger at Harry. "If Harry hadn't touched the Mirror of Rebounds, none of us would be here."

Harry glared at him. "We would have come here when we decided to come," he muttered.

"We," Francis said after he finished chewing and swallowed another bite of his tea, "are looking for a good Tom Riddle."

Professor Snape snorted. "Yes, Mister Potter here _did_ babble something about looking for a good Tom Riddle as Pandora Snape had commanded."

Severus the ghost frowned at Harry. "You babbled?"

Harry smiled smugly at the idea of giving his uncle a headache. "Rather incoherently, if I do say so myself." The other stared at him. "What?"

Francis waved his spoon at the general direction of Severus the ghost. "You do know that you are a bad influence on Harry," he said. Harry silently agreed, but was wise enough not to say a word. Severus glared sourly at both of them.

Dumbledore waved his hands. "Come now," he said. "There is no need to act like children. I'm sure we can all discuss this matter like adults. Now," he again looked at Francis over the frames of his glasses, "do explain."

So Francis did. Between the bites of his tea and the occasional interruption from the two Professor Snapes, he explained to Dumbledore the situation of Voldemort, what Pandora in the Mirror of Rebounds had said, a very brief explanation of his past, and then Severus the ghost's fate. "So you see," he said, finishing both his tale and his tea at the same time, "we have to find a good Tom Riddle, and the only way we can do that is by finding a reality where he decided to remain good."

Dumbledore thoughtfully petted his beard. "It will be very difficult," he said finally.

"I know. Something is bound to be different in each reality, whether past or present."

"I believe everything you have explained," Dumbledore said. "There is no question of the truthfulness in your words."

Professor Snape snorted at that. He looked away as Dumbledore cast him a warning glance. "Francis Potter," Dumbledore said more for Professor Snape's sake than anyone else's, "could not fabricate an untruth to save his life." He looked knowingly at Francis, who turned a bright scarlet color.

"Look," Francis mumbled as he broke into a nervous sweat, "if this is about that one time about how I had - er, well, how someone had accidentally blown up the south water pipes in the Slytherin Dungeons - at least, the rumors claimed it was the south water pipes, I wouldn't know of course - and how the dungeons got flooded and it was two weeks before the water levels dropped, and three months before it was no longer damp - um, I didn't do it. I guess." He chewed on his bottom lip and looked as if he were waiting for the ax to fall.

Severus the ghost rolled his eyes. "Albus is right; you can't lie."

_That's probably why the dungeons always smell so moldy, _Harry thought to himself.

Dumbledore leaned back against his chair and smiled. "You didn't do that in this reality," he told Francis. "What you did was turn the entire staff into puffskeins."

"That," said Severus the ghost, "was Anastasia and Edwina Potter's doing."

Dumbledore frowned. "Who?"

"Pandora's daughters."

"Ah." Dumbledore shook his head. "Anastasia and Edwina Snape. It sounds like something they would do, but they didn't because _they_ were the ones who blew up the south water pipes in the Slytherin Dungeons. We're still unsure as to why that happened, being that those water pipes led to the Gryffindor showers."

Francis blinked. "Anastasia and Edwina turned the entire school staff into puffskiens? I always thought that was Adam Longbottom!"

Harry had the strangest feeling in that moment. He hastened to change the subject. "Shouldn't we get that wand of yours?" he asked Francis.

"I agree," said Severus the ghost stoutly. "We should get the wand as soon as possible, because who knows what's going to happen? We cannot trust this thing." He poked the Mirror of Rebounds with one ghostly finger to prove his point.

Pandora's Box flung open and knocked the Mirror of Rebounds over onto its other side. It spun rapidly around on its hinges as color flooded their surroundings. Harry's hand flew to his forehead as pain exploded along his scar. The two Potters and the one ghost were sucked into the depths of the Mirror of Rebounds along with the color. Pandora's Box followed closely behind, and the Mirror of Rebounds folded into itself.

Professor Snape and Dumbledore stared at the empty space on the desk where Francis had set the two items.

"I say good riddance," Professor Snape said finally as he crossed his arms before himself. "I didn't like those people, and I cannot stand the thought of being related to any Potter. My great-grandmother Pandora married Tacitus Malfoy he was adopted into the family to preserve the Snape name."

Dumbledore took his glasses off and cleaned them, then stared as a transparent ghost, wearing a suit of clothes of a style that was a few centuries out of date, floated through the desk to hover over it. Dumbledore put his glasses back on and stared at the ghost, who nervously clutched a long-necked bottle of white wine.

"You didn't see three gentlemen - two alive and one dead - pop through here with a mirror and an odd box, did you?" Cousin Quigley inquired timidly.

"You just missed them," Dumbledore replied helpfully. "I imagine they skipped realities. It all happened when Severus prodded the mirror, the box flew open, bright colors of green and blue flooded the area, and it all disappeared into the Mirror of Rebounds, including the mirror itself."

Cousin Quigley sighed before he took a quick swig from the bottle. "They're going about this matter all the wrong way," he bemoaned as he faded away.

Moments later, the Bloody Baron appeared. He was fuming mad and flung silvery droplets of blood everywhere in his rage. "_Where is he?"_ he roared before disappearing as well.

Professor Snape and Dumbledore gingerly crawled out from beneath the desk where they had dived beneath. "This," Professor Snape hissed, "is all Harry Potter's fault!"

"Don't hold it against the dear boy," Dumbledore told his Potions Master lightly. "After all, I'm sure he wasn't, ah, himself when he appeared."

"That was a poor pun, Albus. A poor pun indeed."

* * *

Francis and Harry stumbled head over heels across the stone floor. Harry crashed into Fawkes' perch and knocked it over. The phoenix, bright and splendid at the height of his current age, screeched indignantly as he fluttered in the air. He came down to nestle on atop of Francis's hair. Harry stared blearily at his surroundings. His eyes focused on Severus the ghost, who somehow managed to convey the feeling that this was all Harry's fault and yet still be sheepish at the same time.

Francis tried to scratch his head, but Fawkes pecked at his fingers. "Next time," he said in a voice that broached no argument as he brushed tail feathers out of his vision, "we shall _refrain_ from touching the Mirror of Rebounds _until_ I have gotten my wand."

"This reality-jumping is giving me a headache," Harry complained as he pressed one hand against his throbbing scar. The others ignored him.

Francis stood. Fawkes cooed contentedly as he fluffed his feathers and mussed Francis' rumpled blond hair. "Which we are going to get right now. Come; I think I know of a wand shop at Hogsmeade." He started towards the exit and then stopped. "Does anyone have any money?" he asked with a puzzled face. "It just occurred to me that we would have to buy the wand."

"What were you planning to do before?" Severus asked sardonically as Harry readily rummaged through his pockets. "Steal it?"

Harry looked at the coins he found. "I have about four galleons."

"How much do wands cost these days?" Francis asked. "Mine cost two galleons."

"Mine was seven," Harry replied.

"That's more than a three hundred and fifty percent increase!" Harry shifted his feet restlessly as his great-grandfather began to work out a formula on inflation. "I got my wand in 1920, and with the increase of the cost over about seventy years..."

Severus sighed and crossed his arms before himself. Fawkes craned his neck upside down to give Francis what seemed to be a suspicious look.

"Why don't we get the money from my Gringotts account?" Harry asked. "In fact, we might want to get enough to last some time if we're going to jump from reality to reality."

Francis nodded his head vigorously and nearly knocked Fawkes off. "Indeed," he agreed. "Then we shall go to the Great Hall and Floo over to Diagon Alley?" He looked at Severus and Harry for agreement. Both persons nodded their head. "All we have to do now is inform Dumbledore of who we are, what we're doing here, and that our things need to remain where they are."

At the reminder of Pandora's Box and the Mirror of Rebounds, eyes shifted to take in the two items. Severus and Harry unconsciously edged warily away from them.

Francis prodded the phoenix. "Oy, you. Where's Albus?" Fawkes merely cooed before he nipped at the prodding finger. Francis frowned. "Dratted bird. I always knew he was out to get me."

After a few awkward moments, Francis led the way out of Dumbledore's office on a search for the Headmaster. On their journey, Severus managed to intimidate four Hufflepuffs and one Ravenclaw. "This is fun," Severus cackled as he floated down the hall after one of the Hufflepuffs. Francis sighed and turned to the Ravenclaw, who stood frozen in fear.

"Do you know where I may find the Headmaster?" Francis inquired. The Ravenclaw's eyes swiveled about in his head as he looked from one Potter to the other.

"You're supposed to be playing Seeker against Slytherin right now," he told Harry nervously. "Aren't you?"

Harry smiled uneasily, then nudged Francis. "The school year started," he whispered. "Does this mean we traveled forward in time?"

Francis frowned thoughtfully. "We may have," he said. "Come. Dumbledore may be watching the game." He swept Fawkes' feathers out of his face again as he hurried down the hall, leaving the puzzled Ravenclaw behind.

Francis and Harry hurried through the halls and outside the Hogwarts castle to the Quidditch fields. They ducked behind the bleachers as the crowd roared with excitement (or disapproval) as Slytherin scored a goal. "You stay here," Francis said as they hid beneath the Gryffindor stand. "I'm going looking for Dumbledore."

"You're not leaving him here alone without adult supervision!" Severus the ghost materialized behind them.

"Oh, you are absolutely correct. You stay." Francis quickly retreated from the area. Severus and Harry scowled at one another. The crowd roared again.

"Well, since we're here, we may as well watch," Severus grumbled as he turned away from Harry. The two moved off to the side of the bleachers and peered over the fence at the field. Attention was centered on the game and the players, not on the two figures who rightfully did not belong in the current reality. They watched the flying figures clad in green and silver, yellow and red.

People whizzed here and there. Quaffle and Bludgers zoomed about erratically in the air. Out of habit, Harry's eyes immediately sought out the golden Snitch, though there was a sharp, stabbing pain in his temples when he did. In the corner of his eye, he saw himself hovering in the air, slowly turning in circles as he searched for the Snitch. Harry turned his attention to the other self. He never before had the opportunity to see himself as others did, the graceful and wary Seeker for Gryffindor.

He admitted smugly to himself that he looked rather spiffy in his uniform, but he refrained from saying anything with Severus in hearing distance.

"It looks as if Francis found Albus," Severus said above the raucous crowing of the Slytherin spectators as their team scored another goal. Harry looked through Severus to see Francis speaking excitedly to Dumbledore, who held a somewhat-fussy Fawkes in his arms.

"You don't look at all happy," he said as he made out the expression of the other Professor Snape, who sat directly beside Dumbledore.

"Harry, duck," Severus said as he looked away from Francis and Dumbledore.

"Duck?" Harry looked around for the said animal. He wondered how any animal could be stupid enough to fly into the middle of a Quidditch game. He spotted a golden flash. "Hey! The Snitch!" He effortlessly plucked it out of the air.

"Duck!" Severus cried again with another glare at Harry. He reached out to grab Harry,

Harry sighed, exasperated. "Where?" He looked around, and Harry Potter the Seeker crashed into Harry Potter the Reality Jumper.

The world fell apart in to a shattered mess of shapes as both Harrys tumbled head over heels_. Oh. _That_ sort of duck. Well, at least I have the Snitch,_ Harry thought with a twinge of loyalty towards his team. The last thing Harry saw before he landed on his head and everything went black was Severus the ghost looking torn between amusement over the situation and worry for his nephew's welfare.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry sighed as he stared down at the back of Cousin Quigley's bent shoulders. The man was flopped facedown across the bar within one of Dublin's many pubs. One hand clutched a round glass half-filled with an amber fluid. His entire body shivered as if he suffered a bad case of chills. The black material of his Muggle suit, damp with sweat, clung to his back.

Harry rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. He knew it was another one of his dreams as he was currently suspended in the air and, though the pub was busy and brimmed with patrons, an eerie silence filled the area. He saw Cousin Quigley twitch in his alcohol-induced sleep.

"Pathetic," said a hoarse voice behind Harry. "Pathetic and shameful to the family."

Harry hardly spared the Bloody Baron a glance. "It's not like you're the epitome of family perfection," Harry said with a fierce protectiveness. True, Cousin Quigley, with his stringy hair and pallid skin, clothes soaked with sweat and body collapsed from too much drink, _was_ a pathetic sight. However, there were times in Harry's life where _he_ certainly would not have minded drowning all his sorrows in alcohol. All those years of living with the Dursleys, losing his family and knowing why, Cedric's death, the constant fight with Voldemort; just thinking about all of it made Harry depressed. While Voldemort may not have terrorized Cousin Quigley, Cousin Quigley still (according to Pandora) saw what would happen and went so far as to send Severus to assure events would occur differently. Harry had seen Cousin Quigley do it, and he knew only a desperate man would find the strength to do something as heart-wrenching as _knowingly_ abandoning a child to the life Severus had lived.

The Bloody Baron snorted and folded his arms before himself. Harry glanced at him and then looked quickly away from the gruesome vision that was his ancestor.

The Bloody Baron sneered at Cousin Quigley's back. As if sensing the loathing hatred of the Slytherin ghost, Cousin Quigley flinched and the hand not clutching the drink curled into a hook. "Most powerful magic-user in the family since Hyacinthe the Druid. The imbecilic fool not only wound up in Hufflepuff but he also threw all his talent away for Divinations and drink."

"Divination?" Harry frowned. "Well, some things are true," he said as he carefully skirted around the memory of Professor Trelawney. "Divination isn't necessarily all useless crap. And what do you mean by his being the most powerful family member since Hyacinthe the Druid?" He tried to imagine Cousin Quigley - poor, drunken Cousin Quigley who hiccupped and slurred his words and tripped over his own two feet - being the most powerful family member since the creator of the Mirror of Rebounds.

Yet it made sense. Where else would Cousin Quigley have gotten the power to thrust Severus into the future?

Harry's eyes shifted over to the Bloody Baron, who watched him with dangerous eyes. Now was probably as good a time to confirm what everybody suspected. "Cousin Quigley pushed Severus through the Mirror of Rebounds, didn't he?" he asked.

The Bloody Baron looked at Harry oddly. "Who's Severus?"

"The little boy Cousin Quigley pushed through the Mirror of Rebounds." Harry gave the Bloody Baron his own version of an odd look. Surely the man knew who Severus was. Severus was not only a Slytherin, but also Head of the House. Or at least Severus at least used to be; Harry was not sure if ghosts could be Heads of their respectable Houses.

"Oh. Him. Yes," the Bloody Baron said darkly. "Bloody moron probably doesn't realize how much pain and suffering he probably caused the child, thrusting him into the slums. Someone ought to drag that sorry piece of shit out in the street and shoot him. Child didn't understand what was going on anymore and is probably dead anyway. You can't expect a babe to care for itself in the slums. Death is far kinder. And because the fool deigned to force such a fate on his son did his wife leave him." He sneered again. "Worthless idiot couldn't even keep the woman he married, and she was a damn fine addition to the family, even being the unorthodox heathen that she was."

Harry's mind stuttered to a halt. "Wait a minute... Did you just saw his son? _Severus_ is Cousin Quigley's _son_?"

Again the Blood Baron gave him an odd look. "If you knew he pushed a child through the Mirror of Rebounds, then you should also know that the child he pushed through was his own."

"_Cousin Quigley_ is Severus' _father_?"

The Bloody Baron frowned. "Perhaps we are talking of two different people. Quigley's son's was Dominic."

Harry did not pay attention. If Cousin Quigley meant to assure the future of the Snapes, then sending his own son into the future would probably assure the future. But how could placing Severus in the slums protect him? If he was only a little boy, how could he possibly protect himself?

Harry looked at Cousin Quigley. The man's hands still quivered in his sleep. Harry floated over to the side to catch a glimpse of Cousin Quigley's face. In his sleep, Cousin Quigley wept.

"I think he does understand what he inflicted on Uncle Severus," Harry said softly. "I think that may be one of the reasons why he takes to drink."

"He takes to drink because he is too weak to face the problem headlong. He does it only to escape. He cannot stomach the idea of pain or suffering. The worthless coward."

Harry flinched at the venom that drenched the Bloody Baron's words. "I think you're being harsh," he said as he wondered if Uncle Hector Snape had been a closeted Gryffindor, since Slytherins never seemed to have the word coward in their vocabulary.

The Bloody Baron turned his eyes on Harry. "Harsh?" he asked as he drifted backwards. "Harsh? Boy, the bloody idiot had a gift and he could have taken it far, but he threw it away because he was too weak to control it. He allowed that thing to control him, and in the end, 'tis his own damn fault. He gave up his heir for a fate even I would not wish upon anyone." He considered what he said. "At least, not on anyone I would not care to kill."

Harry stared at Cousin Quigley's back. He heard Pandora's voice, and unknowingly found himself echoing it. " '_Too innocent and naive to be sly. Too happy and go-lucky to be manipulative. Too gentle to be harsh._' " The Bloody Baron glared at him. Harry glared back, defiantly. "That's what Pandora said," he said defensively. "She said that's why Cousin Quigley became a Hufflepuff. Yes, it might have seemed to be a gift to him, but he never asked for it. It's probably a curse instead and it always will be. He's got the ability and power he'd rather give away, because the weight that comes with the power's too much of a burden to make the 'gift' seem worthwhile. But you wouldn't understand." Harry stubbornly gritted his teeth as he subconsciously traced the lightening bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. "You wouldn't understand."

"It destroys him," a woman whispered. The Bloody Baron and Harry froze, and then slowly turned to see Pandora floating behind them, her legs drawn in a seated position. She wore a simple white dress as a curved cane rested in her lap. She nodded her head respectfully to the Bloody Baron. "Good day to you, Uncle Hector," she said.

The Bloody Baron nodded stiffly in reply, looking puzzled at the sight of Pandora. He looked at Harry sideways with a cunning deviousness in his dark eyes. "You stupid boy," he hissed, half in awe and half in anger. "You're not just a Wanderer, but a Caller!"

Harry blinked at that. "So?" he finally asked. He ignored the Bloody Baron's sputtering and gazed fully at his great-grandmother. "What are those?" he asked.

Pandora remained silent as the Bloody Baron answered. "A Wanderer is someone who roams in their dreams, across time and space and reality. A Caller is someone who brings someone else into their dreams. 'Tis a random skill, and being a Caller has more to do with having enough power to bring others along than it being an exclusive talent."

Harry scratched his head. "You mean the Mirror of Rebounds has nothing to do with it?"

The Bloody Baron muttered something under his breath that Harry suspected he would never find anywhere in a dictionary. "It has everything to do with the Mirror of Rebounds."

"These are terms used exclusively for those with Snape blood," Pandora explained as she prodded the Bloody Baron with her cane.

"Do that again and I'll turn it into matchsticks," the Bloody Baron growled as a sword appeared in his hands. Pandora ignored him.

"The Mirror of Rebounds is what opens the avenue to Wandering and Calling, two skills that involve what _he_," she nodded to Cousin Quigley, "is able to access while _waking_. He is the only person in our family known to do so. Everyone else has to sleep because, after all, sleeping is when a person is most receptive to the Mirror of Rebounds, even should the person be too rigid while awake." She frowned at the Bloody Baron. "If you don't stop tormenting Cousin Quigley, I shall lock you in the Hells of Hades."

The Bloody Baron grinned; it was a gruesome sight. "Don't bother," he said smugly. "Indigo Snape tried that. I got kicked out after four hours."

"I know. You told me that."

He blinked. "I did?"

"Or you will."

He slapped his forehead. "You _both_ jumped time?"

"No." Pandora pointed at Harry. "He Called me. I'm so far removed from reality that time doesn't exist." She was thoughtfully silent for a moment before giving Harry a bright smile. "Well, technically we don't exist because there is no time."

Harry groaned and she laughed. "This is Pandora speaking and not the Mirror of Rebounds, right?"

Pandora sniffed, wounded. "Harry," she said softly, "I am what I am and that is all that I am, for I cannot be any less than me. If I am not who I am, then who can I be but someone other than myself?"

Even the Bloody Baron looked confused.

Pandora reached outward and pressed her hands against Harry's shoulders. He grabbed her cane just as it began to slide from her lap. "Harry," she said softly, "you're on the right track. Just keep going. And remember, the only Tom Riddle that is not connected to Harry Potter is the one where the Boy Who Lived was not needed." She pressed a kiss over his scar and pushed him backwards.

"Wait!" Harry flung his hand out to grasp at her, but it passed through her as if she was a wisp of smoke. "What do you mean?" Everything faded away to darkness as he plummeted downward.

"Is he going to wake up soon?"

"Well, at least I got my wand this time."

"How much money do you owe Dumbledore?"

"Nothing, actually. He convinced the ugly gremlins that I was getting the money for Harry."

sigh "They're goblins, not gremlins."

"Still ugly."

"I miss my toaster oven."

Harry looked at the fleeting and distorted images of Francis and Severus the ghost speaking as they stood between two beds, both of which contained unconscious Harry Potter. He whirled around them, dizzy and disoriented, and caught in another maelstrom. He clutched Pandora's cane closely to himself, wondering if his great-grandmother would be upset with him for his having it. "Francis? Uncle Severus?" Harry nearly screamed in frustration when neither heard.

Harry reached out to brush his fingers against Severus' shoulders. The ghost jumped as if someone had smacked him with a hot brand. Harry whirled around them in a large circle. The further away he got, the more faded the voices became. But as he swung close around them he saw Severus rub his shoulders and heard him tell Francis that it felt as though a goose had wandered over his grave.

"What do you suppose it was?" Francis asked.

"I don't know. It felt familiar." Harry futilely reached out again.

He could not even remember how he came to be in the whirling circle. He felt trapped and useless. It seemed to be exactly how his life was like. No matter what he did, he was always trapped. No matter how he tried to cope, he couldn't free himself of his fate. It hurt knowing Pandora had shoved him away. It hurt seeing Cousin Quigley drowning his sorrows and it hurt to know exactly how it felt to be so desperate.

"I'm here!" he called frantically as he reached out to bush Severus' shoulder again. The ghost jumped and looked around. His eyes settled upon Harry. He managed to give Severus a tense smile as he whipped past him.

"You get back into your body right this moment, young man!" Severus snapped angrily. Francis squinted in the direction that Severus was arguing to. After a moment, his eyes focused and his jaw dropped in surprise.

"How?" Harry called. And then, as an afterthought, "Which one is mine?"

"That one." Severus pointed to the Harry on the left as Francis pointed to the Harry on the right.

"Wait." Francis looked at the bodies. "Which one _is_ our Harry?" They scrutinized the bodies for any tale-telling marks as Harry whirled around them, sighing and hugging the cane close to his chest. A feeling of giddy relief welled up in his chest because he had been noticed, but he ignored it for the moment. As he whirled around the images, he saw a tendril of warm golden light with sparks of red arching reach out of the dark depths into the whirling circle he was caught in. He watched it with a morbid interest.

As Harry whirled close to it, he heard Francis say in a bemused voice, "You know, I don't think our Harry had a hickey on his neck."

"He better not be making out with someone!" Severus declared in a fit of parental rage.

The tendril of golden light snapped forward and wrapped around Harry's ankle. "Uh oh." It wrenched him free of the maelstrom and hurled him through the darkness. Harry flipped head over heels, away from Francis and Severus. His stomach flip-flopped once before he crashed into something very solid.

It was a bookshelf. He learned this after he fell to the floor and several dozen books (all which must have had more than a thousand pages each) dropped onto his head. He rubbed his sore head and straightened his glasses before picking up one book and reading its title_: Study of Africa's Voodoo Magic._ His hair rose on end as he hastily dropped the book. He snatched up another to look at. _Curses Created by Cults._

"Oh bugger," he moaned as he stood up.

"Not only are you a nightmare," said a familiar voice behind him, "but you are also a nuisance. I _know_ I'm awake this time." Harry whirled around, clutching Pandora's cane close, and saw the same man with the bronzed skin and black hair from earlier. He wore light green robes this time and carried a brace of candles. The effect of the warm glow the candlelight cast and the neutral look upon the man's handsome face chased away Harry's fear. He looked sheepishly at the pile of books at his feet.

"Sorry," he mumbled in apology. The man sighed and shook his head, clearly exasperated with Harry.

"Pick those up and then come and see me; we have some _words_ to exchange." The darkness trembled from the force of command in his voice, soft and gentle though it might have seemed. Harry shivered and flinched. The man set the brace of candles on the floor and turned away. He gracefully walked down the hallway. The end of it was golden from the glow of other candles.

Harry slowly put the books onto their shelves, hesitant to finish and seek the man out as he had been told. He wondered what order the books had been, or if it really mattered. Not wanting to take a risk, Harry placed them on the shelf in something of the arrangement he could vaguely recall from the dream on the Knight Bus.

The dream Harry was currently trapped in hardly seemed real. The scope and reality of the dream was beyond the complex depths of what could be considered normal, but it seemed all the more unreal because of it. The only other times everything seemed to solid and so realistic while he was asleep were those two dreams of the child-woman thought to be his mother, but got kicked out of his own head at the end of each.

After he finished, Harry picked up the brace of candles and slowly followed in the same direction as the man did earlier. He clutched Pandora's cane close for comfort and confidence. Remembering all too vividly the hellish power that filled the man's eyes in his last dream, Harry reluctantly entered the room at the end of the hall. It was the same room where he had first met the man. Not much had changed, except the pile of papers on the desk had increased in size. Harry carefully sat down on the chair before the desk and set the brace of candles to the side. The man sat behind the desk but did not look up at Harry as he buttered a golden crumpet. At his elbow was a tray of crumpets with a platter of butter and a tea set. Little wisps of steam drifted out of the teapot's spout.

"I didn't expect to see you again." Harry jumped at the sound of the man's voice. The man still did not look up from his domesticate task. "While I simply do not care, that does not change the fact you are here." He set the buttered crumpet on a napkin and pushed it to Harry before picking another crumpet. He dug his fingernails into the bread and pried it in half before buttering it. "Therefore, you are going to explain your presence. And it better be good."

Harry fidgeted nervously with a corner of the napkin the offered buttered crumpet rested upon. "Well, what if I don't know what I'm doing here? What if you don't believe me?"

"Try me."

Harry sighed. "Are you going to write it down?" he asked in exasperation. "Like Francis?"

The eyes, all-knowing and all-understanding, flickered from the crumpet to Harry as the hands stilled in their motion. Harry squirmed uncomfortably beneath the man's gaze. "Francis Potter?"

"My great-grandfather, yes."

"Interesting, that." The eyes looked away from Harry and the hands resumed their buttering. Harry did not know the matter was interesting because Harry was related to Francis, or it was just Francis.

"Why is that?" Harry asked cautiously. He was wary of prodding this man for information. The man seemed dangerous, but not deadly. It was like chopping carrots with a sharp knife. The knife was sharp enough to slice a finger off, but not dangerous enough that it would actually happen. _Treading upon ground without a care for deadfalls. _

"I find it odd that you should know your great-grandfather when he died at the age of thirty-six upon falling from his broom and breaking his neck."

"_Again_?"

The hands did not falter, but the man's eyes glanced at Harry again. "Again?" It sounded more like an observing statement than a question.

"He died like that once before." Harry looked away from the man's eyes. They reminded him too much of Pandora's. "It's all sort of hard to explain, really," he said finally. He rubbed the pad of his thumb against the smooth wood of Pandora's cane.

"Do tell."

Harry wanted to. In that moment, when he looked back and saw the man gazing at him with a deep curiosity, Harry knew he would never again find anyone so completely unconnected to his life, yet so absolutely capable of understanding Harry's constant plights. The man's eyes were gentle and soothing, but the kindness and understanding disguised immense power and endless cunning. Again, Harry was struck with the sensation of familiarity – like finding a long-lost older brother.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Lips twitched, as if suppressing a smile. "No one of whose like you have ever known before, nor ever will again."

"I can believe that," Harry said. The man poured him a cup of tea. Harry propped Pandora's cane against the desk and accepted the tea. "It's a long story," he said as he took a sip and burned his mouth.

"Boy," the man leaned back casually, "ever since my wife died and my children left, I have had plenty of free time. Today is no exception." He waved his hand. "You can talk yourself hoarse of your life and I will still have too much free time. Now speak."

So he did. Harry pushed the tea away to give it a chance to cool, and told the man everything, leaving nothing out. Drawn by the knowledge that the man was too removed from his life to make a judgment, yet close enough to be a listener who genuinely cared how Harry felt, Harry spoke.

All the many years of living with the Dursleys, the fates of his parents, the constant war with Voldemort, how he wound up with Severus, who Severus was, both the gain and loss of his Snape family, what they were doing as they jumped realities. He skipped sporadically about in his tale, saying everything he could think of in whatever order they appeared in his mind. The man remained quiet as Harry spoke, though there were a few times when the man flinched and once, when Harry told him of the night Voldemort came back and had killed Cedric, there was an sporadic flare of power from the man's stoic figure that nearly knocked Harry off his seat.

Harry was exhausted when he finished his story. He sighed as he folded half-over the table, his head resting against his arms. "And that's that," he said softly into his arms, too tired to hold his head up. Fingers brushed against his hair and he picked his head up just enough to peer curiously at the man. The man was reaching across the table to brush his fingers through the Harry's hair, a clinical interest all the emotion his otherwise-stoic face contained. "So who are you?" Harry asked again.

The man said nothing as he stood up and walked around to desk behind Harry. "Such a burden for one so young," the man said softly as he picked Harry up as if he weighed no more than a feather. "You're tired and still growing; you need your rest." Harry felt himself relaxing in the man's surprisingly protective hold, like a child taking comfort in a father's care. He dimly realized that he had left Pandora's cane propped up against the man's desk.

"Who are you?" he asked again before he fell asleep.

The man froze as Harry Potter dissolved into a shower of green sparks and was no more. After a moment, his lips twisted into a sardonic smile, "I am what I am and that's all that I am, because I can be nothing else."


	10. Chapter 10

     Harry opened his eyes, feeling refreshed and amazingly alive. He sat upright and stared at his white surroundings before fumbling around for his glasses. He found them on the small bed stand to his right and put them on. As his eyes focused, he noticed Severus the ghost floating beside the bed, watching at him with a wary expression. Harry sighed. "What are you so upset about now?" he asked. 

     Severus snorted. "Well, you didn't scream and faint this time in shock at the sight of my being dead, so you must be our Harry." 

     "I guess this means I'm not the one with the hickey on his neck." 

     Severus' appearance, white and transparent, turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. Harry stared in astonishment. Severus whirled around to face the other way. "I suppose that isn't a good sign," Harry said. 

     "No," said Francis behind him, "it isn't." Harry turned to see his great-grandfather checking the other Harry's pulse. "You see, he and you--that is, this reality's Harry and this reality's Severus--are currently--ah, how does one say this tactfully?" Francis tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, you are participating together in a very, um," his own face burned red, "_graphic_ relationship." 

     Harry could guess what that meant. He vaguely understood the basic mechanics of sex because of both Anastasia and Edwina's botched-up attempt at teaching him the facts of life when they were still at Dursleys (Oliver had to step in and chase them away), but that was between a man and a woman. He was not sure what a man and a, well, boy did, but it was probably something similar, and probably not something he wanted to think of--oh. Oh. _Oooooohhhhh . . . _He felt his own face burn red. "But--" 

     "Naturally," Francis hurried on to add before Harry said something regrettably embarrassing, "I asked Dumbledore what the legal relationships between minors and adults were now, since the wizarding society frowned upon such relationship and believed it to be taboo but not illegal in my time." Francis shrugged helplessly. "Unfortunately, little has changed since then. Your godfather is still a convict in this reality and the Dursleys disowned you before your fifth year at Hogwarts, so you legally do not have any legal guardians to forbid this relationship from carrying on." 

     "But . . ." Harry shook his head in dismayed shock. "I'm having an _affair _with the greasy, horrible . . . ewwww!" 

    "You're not exactly the finest catch yourself!" snapped Severus hotly without turning around. 

    Francis did not say anything. He merely dropped the other Harry's wrist and sat down on the bed. "I believe we have overstayed our welcome." He looked at Harry with some concern. "Do you feel well enough to jump realities?" he asked. "I found a new wand and thought up an interesting theory on existence in the sixteen hours you're asleep." 

     Harry felt his stomach turn at the idea of being sucked into the Mirror of Rebounds and his scar twinge in sympathy. He pressed a hand against it. "Before we go," he said, "I have some things to tell you. Like every time Pandora's Box opens, my scar hurts." Severus the ghost twisted and peered at Harry over his shoulder as Francis folded his arms before himself and looked patient. Harry took this as a sign they would listen. "It hurts just like Voldemort makes it hurt. I don't know why though." 

     "Maybe it has something to do with the power stored in Pandora's Box," Francis said. He frowned thoughtfully and leaned forward, propping both elbows on his knees. "Harry, we can't be sure of what is within that box of Pandora's. We don't know what sort of power it is. All we can conclude thus far is what Pandora has said and what has happened. Pandora said the box is only to be opened when the situation is absolutely dire. Given that sort of command, the power must certainly be horrendously strong. Yet it also seems attuned to the Mirror of Rebounds for whatever reason, and the immensity of the power may be it. Now, that may say something about your scar as well. Tom Riddle had immense magical power, and your scar seems to react rather harshly to magical attacks. There may be a connection somewhere there between all three of these things. It might just be the level of magic used in all three cases that affect your scar." 

     "Tell him about your theory on existence," Severus said. Francis took his glasses off and began to clean them. 

     "Well, it's not much of a theory yet. Just something I devised upon learning that Pandora married her cousin, Tacitus Snape, and I married a student I met from another school of magic while visiting family in Australia." 

     "He got killed in this reality when he fell off his broom and broke his neck," Severus added. 

     Francis frowned as Harry groaned, "Again?" 

     "That's what I said," Francis grumbled before he put his glasses on again. "And Severus here is the grandson of Pandora's son, Oliver, who married a Hufflepuff student, while you were born from James, who was born from my son Edwin. Funny that; Edwina's name is the feminine version of Edwin. Now, all things considering, it would seem that you wouldn't come into existence because Pandora and I never had children, but it did happen. My theory is this: regardless of who marries who, each person who exists was made to exist as they are, regardless of genes or gender." He fiddled thoughtfully with the glasses frames. "It has some holes in it and the theory is still slightly shaky, but I'm still working on it." 

     "Ah." Harry was silent for a moment. 

     "What happened?" Severus asked. Harry looked at him with bewilderment. "Earlier, you kept appearing and fading and appearing and fading, first in one part of the room and then in the other." 

     "I don't know." Harry rubbed his temples. "All I know was that I was caught in some sort of vortex and kept going around you two in a circle before this strand of light yanked me out of it and dumped me in a dream I had already been in before. Well, sort of. Same area and person and all that." 

     Severus gave him a blank look. "What?" 

     "Could you explain a little clearer?" Francis asked. 

     Harry told them about the dream he had of the Bloody Baron, Cousin Quigley, and Pandora. 

     "I'm_ whose _son?" 

     Harry peered sideways at Severus. He had not known Severus' voice could go so high. 

     "It makes sense," Francis said thoughtfully. He shapes his fingers into a square box and held them up so it appeared as if he were enclosing Severus within the box. "Dark skin goes sallow if it doesn't have enough sunlight, and your facial features can match an Indian's." He shrugged. "Or maybe I just read too many American West dime-novels in my youth." 

     Severus looked torn between disbelief and anger. 

     "What's the matter?" Francis asked. 

     'Oh, I don't know," Severus said in a surprisingly mild voice. "Maybe its because I find out that all the misery in my life comes from being the son of the drunken slob who haunted portrait frames in the same place that I was probably born in." He sighed. "At the moment, I find it difficult to reconcile with the idea that I may have sprung from the lions of Quaffing Quigley." 

     "The Bloody Baron said that Cousin Quigley's son's name was Dominic." Harry and Francis looked expectantly at Severus. 

    Severus crossed his arms before himself. "Don't look at me," he snarled. "If I had a name on the slums, I obviously didn't know it because I would have protested against being called the oddball." 

     "But your middle name is Dominic," Harry pointed out. 

     "Because Pandora said that the twins and Oliver swore that the next one of them who had a son would name him Dominic for her. She adoredthe name, for some odd reason. I wanted Severus' name, and Pandora let me have it, but she was very adamant on my being Dominic as well." 

     Francis turned back to Harry. "You have more to say though, so keep going." 

     At the mention and description of the man, Francis and Severus' interest sharpened into a dark suspicion. Harry watched the ploy of emotions flitting across their features. Pain, fright, anger, curiosity. He decided to leave out how he had told every single thing of his life to the man. 

     "What is it?" he asked finally. "Is it someone I should be careful with?" 

     Severus and Francis exchanged looks before Severus answered. "We don't know. Everything is now very confusing, and we're not sure of who to be wary of or to trust." 

     "Who do you suppose it is?" 

     "We don't know," Francis said firmly. "The description would fit any number of persons." Something flickered in his eyes. "Yet you say it isn't the first dream you had of him?" Harry then told them about the dream he had of the man on the Knights Bus. 

     "You know," said Francis as Harry finished, "Pandora used to refer to her father as a Wanderer." 

     "Cousin Quigley said Grandfather Severus met Rhianon when the Mirror of Rebounds spoke to him in other means. I guess that makes sense." 

     Francis and Severus exchanged a long look. "We were thinking," Francis said finally, "and this clinches it. We want Pandora back. Even though she's with her mother's family, well, we think she should come home with us. She knows more about what we're doing that we do, and if she's alive, then there's always the chance for her to come back. So every time we jump, we're not only going to inquire after a good Tom Riddle, we're also going to see if Pandora's alive and if she is, then maybe there's the chance that her mother and our Pandora's mother are the same." 

     Harry nodded. He could go with that. "So when do we leave?" he asked. 

     Francis stood up. "Right now, if you're feeling well." Harry pushed the sheets back and stood up. He felt steady and strong enough. 

     "I'm fine," he said. 

     As they exited the infirmary, Harry asked, "So who won?" 

     "Won what?" Francis said absently as he checked to make sure his wand was tucked securely in his pocket. 

     "The Quidditch match. Who won?" 

     Severus the ghost snorted. "Last I heard, they were still arguing." 

     "Why?" 

     "Because you caught the Snitch. While you may be the Gryffindor Seeker, you're also not on their team because the other Harry is. There's an on-going argument over whether your catch should qualify or not." He shrugged. "It's not as if they could consult the rulebook over this infraction." 

     "Ah." Harry was silent for a moment. Then, "Am I_ really _having a rather graphic relationship with Professor Snape?" 

     His uncle grumbled. "One more word about the matter, and I'll gag you." 

     Harry sighed. "Hopefully this is the only reality where this happened."   
  
  
  


     "I hate me." 

     Harry stomped his foot and glared at his uncle as they hurried down the hallway. "You're a dirty old man, you know that? Don't you have better things to do than to--to seduce innocent Gryffindors like myself?" 

     Severus did not seem to be listening to Harry. "I used to think I had better taste than that." 

     "And another thing; don't you believe in washing your hair? I can't believe I fell for someone with enough grease in his hair to fry a whole pan of chips!" 

     Francis elbowed his way to the forefront of the two bickering relatives. "Boys, please!"   
  
  
  


     "I _really _hate me." 

     ". . ." Harry's lower lip trembled. Severus gazed at him with concern. 

     "Don't you dare start crying, you hear me?" 

     ". . ." 

     "Um, Harry?" Severus drifted closer to where Harry leaned against the wall and shook with emotions. 

     ". . ." 

     "If it makes you feel better, I never would have done such a thing." Severus looked at Francis for support, but Francis refused to meet his eyes. Severus nervously wrung his hands as he turned back to Harry. "I'd let you kick me too, but that would be rather hard to do since I'm a ghost." 

     Harry finally looked up. Severus and Francis both scrambled away as Harry pushed away from the wall with his hands clenched into fists at his side. "YOU DIRTY GREASY SLIMY BASTARD!!! YOU JUST ASSAULTED ME IN THE MEN'S BATHROOM AND STUCK YOUR TONGUE DOWN MY THROAT BEFORE I HAD A CHANCE TO SAY I WASN'T THIS REALITY'S HARRY!" 

     Severus' chest swelled with indignity. "Who are you calling a dirty slimy bastard? Here I was trying to be nice--and besides, if I remember correctly,_ you _seduced _me _in this reality! I was the innocent who got waylaid here! Or at least laid." 

     "I WAS HAPPY BEING A VIRGIN BEFORE YOU CAME ALONG AND HAD YOUR NAUGHTY WAY WITH ME!" 

     "My naugh--Harry! I'm not the teenager suffering from hormones here!" 

     Francis looked at the small crowd of onlookers they had begun to attract. "Boys, please!"   
  
  
  


     "I'm not going to say a word." Severus looked more transparent than usual. 

     Behind Severus, Harry sputtered as he flailed his arms wildly in the air. He finally managed to form a single, coherent sentence in his state of turbulent emotions. "You didn't even have the decency to wait until we left before you jumped my bones--again!" 

     Severus whirled around to face Harry. "Well, I didn't know you had such a taste for bondage! God, and that leather you wore!" 

     Harry sputtered even more. "--I never--I mean--Argh! Obviously you were my influence in that!" 

     Francis looked at the small crowd of onlookers they had attracted again. He waved his hands to get their attention. "Boys, please! There are little first year Hufflepuffs in hearing!"   
  
  
  


     "Sweet Merlin!" Severus slowly closed the door he had opened. His expression was a mixture of shock, dazed numbness, and morbid curiosity. Harry picked his jaw up off the floor and eyed Severus suspiciously. 

     "You use aphrodisiacs, don't you?" 

     Severus was all in a world of his own. "I'm too old to have that sort of energy!" 

     "Are you some sort of sex god or something? I mean, that was my godfather and Hagrid--" 

     Francis choked. "--Stop! Boys . . . Please," he covered his eyes, "you're embarrassing me." 

     "--and Draco and myself and Remus--" 

     Severus recovered enough to glare at Francis. "It's all your fault anyway, Francis. If you bothered knocking, we wouldn't have seen that orgy taking place." 

     "--and Dumbledore and--wait is _that _what people call those things?" 

     Severus turned his glare onto Harry. "And you are so innocent." 

     Francis looked close to crying. "I was too until you two decided to have a relationship together--or at least never shut up about the, er, aspects of it."   
  
  
  


     Harry and Severus silently watched Francis gleefully stare out of the window down to the courtyard below. 

     "Draco? _That_ was Draco Malfoy?" Francis pointed at something below. 

     Harry and Severus exchanged mutual looks of annoyed impatience. 

     "He's got you two wrapped around his little fingers! Buahahahahahahaha--" 

     Severus gritted his teeth. ". . . Francis is having a little too much fun at our expense." 

     Harry nodded his head in agreement. "I say we knock him over the head and punt his body into the Mirror of Rebounds." 

     "Done. Harry, you take that side, and I'll take this side." They stood on either side of Francis and grabbed each of his arms. 

     "--ahahaha--What are you doing?" Severus and Harry ignored Francis as Severus reached out ghostly foot out to touch the Mirror of Rebounds. "Boys?" It jumped and spun about on its axis as the lid flew off of Pandora's Box. Severus and Harry heaved Francis into the Mirror of Rebounds. "Wahhh?!"   
  
  
  


    "I AM NOT STUPID ENOUGH TO MIX A LUST POTION WITH THE WOLFSBANE POTION!" 

    Both Francis and Harry looked slightly green as they leaned against each other for support. 

     "Eeeeewwwww!" 

     "Eeeeewwwww!" 

     "WHY ARE YOU TWO STARING AT ME?!" 

     Harry waved his hand as he tried not to make the flaming-red Severus any madder that what he already was. "Let's just go before we see that--that _sight _again." He shuddered. 

     "Yes." Francis nodded his head again and looked over his shoulder at the wide-eyed children who stared at them. "Besides, there are little Hufflepuffs in hearing." 

     ~POP~ 

     "(_hic_) Sho conshiderate! I (_hic_) wub you guysh!" 

     All three reality-jumpers screamed and scrambled away from the drunken Cousin Quigley, who clutched a wine bottle protectively. 

     "AHHHHH!" 

     "AHHHHH!" 

     "AHHHHH!" 

     Cousin Quigley blinked and tried to uncross his eyes long enough to focus on them. "Wuz it shomething I shaid?" 

     Severus pointed a finger at Cousin Quigley. His anger came back once more at the sight of someone they all more or less figured was his father. "It's you!" 

     Harry straightened upward. "What are you doing here?" 

     Francis was the only one who decided to calmly assess the situation. "Unless you belong in this reality." 

     Cousin Quigley grinned at them, unabashed by Severus' anger. " 'Sh funny how you three carry on a rampant convershashion with one another. Yesh, it'sh me!" He triumphantly waved his bottle of wine and nearly fell over. "Good ol' Coushin Quigley!" 

    A wave of cold, so chilling that it nearly burned, suddenly blasted down the hallway like a tidal wave of water. A voice followed after it, the volume greater even than Severus'. "WHERE THE HELL IS THAT PATHETIC PILE OF DRUNKEN SHIT?!" 

     Cousin Quigley sobered immediately. "Eeep! He's found me!" 

     Severus whirled around. "That's our cue to leave." 

     "Yes." Harry ran after Severus. 

     Francis followed after, but he waved cheerfully. "Bye Cousin Quigley." Cousin Quigley wrung his hands and floated about in a dizzy circle. 

     "I gotta hide! I gotta hide!"   
  
  
  


     Severus glared at the crying figure Francis had his arms around in comfort. "Bugger." He glared at Harry as if it was his fault. Harry bristled at the silent accusation. 

     "I most certainly do not have suicidal tendencies!" 

     Severus snorted. "I beg to differ. I seem to remember a great deal of your trying to get yourself killed so many years running in Hogwarts." Harry stuttered and desperately tried to think of a good comeback. 

     "That is, um, beside the point. I mean, I'm not chronically depressed!" 

     Francis frowned at them. "Boys, please; don't talk about Harry as if he's not here." The Harry he held sniffled and then started sobbing again. Francis sighed. "And someone get me another hanky." 

     "That's true," Severus said to Harry. "However, I'll have to say you are chronically depressing." 

    Harry produced a wrinkled handkerchief from one of his pockets and handed it to Francis. "Here's mine." Francis held it out to the other Harry, who took it from Francis and blew his nose into it. _Shnork ._ The reality-jumping Harry winced. "Ick. Keep it." He went back to arguing with Severus. "And I'm not depressing!" 

     "Humph. Then how come, when you get into trouble, I get depressed?" 

     Francis waved his hand to shush them. "Boys . . . You'll have to excuse them, Harry," he told the Harry he held. "They haven't exactly been feeling well since all this reality-jumping began. Oh, here, lean on my shoulder." This reality's Harry buried his face in the crook of Francis' neck. Francis sighed and patted Harry comfortingly on his shoulder. "There, there, everything will be all right." 

     Severus snorted. "Never knew you to be a therapist for suicidal maniacs." 

     Francis glared tiredly at Severus. "You are not very tactful," he said. "If you aren't going to be supportive for someone who is so miserable with life that he is willing to kill himself by leaping off the Astronomy Tower, you can go see what the you of this reality are doing." 

     Harry snickered as Severus turned red. "While you," Harry said, "were helping Harry, we had an eyeful of Sirius and Remus playing a game." 

     "What sort of game?" Harry's smile grew wider with smugness and Severus turned redder. "Oh. Never mind."   
  
  
  


     "Why oh why do I keep falling for you? Am I the only Snape in existence that actually has taste?" Severus looked up at the sky, more as if addressing some Greater Being rather than his nephew. 

     Harry decided just to take in stride--as long as he was not assaulted in the men's bathroom again. "Oh, I don't know. I think I'm a fine catch." 

     "You are such a vain, spoiled rotten, bloody stupid, incorrigible brat. Remind me never to go reality-jumping with you again; it's gives you a swollen head." 

     Severus' insults rolled off Harry without a single affect. "You're just angry because I'm the best lay you've had in years." Harry thought about what he just said. "Wait, I'm the _only_ lay you've had in years!" 

     Francis stuck his fingers in his ears as he marched past them. "Boys, please!"   
  
  
  


     "It's humanly impossible to be that flexible!" Severus' eyes were huge as all three reality-jumpers leaned against a small door. 

     "You greasy bastard," Harry muttered stoically. Severus sniffed and crossed his arms. 

     "I'll have you know that I was legal, thank you very much! Even the Bloody Baron said so." 

     "You greasy bastard." 

     "You have no imagination whatsoever. I'm sure you can come up with a better insult than that. You haven't spent the past two months in my time to have not learned anything." Harry whirled around to fully face his uncle. His arm flung wide to point at the door. 

     "What I just saw left little for imagination!" 

     Francis hurried away before they could drag him into their conversation.   
  
  
  


     To say that Harry, Severus, and Francis only met with random people snogging in the corners as they jumped realities or discovered too much knowledge of their personal love lives was not true. In the realities that were fairly acceptable to them by way of appearance, there tended to be something of an unusually high amount of homoerotica that took place in the dark corners of the Hogwarts Castle. 

     "You'd think we'd get caught," Harry commented as they floated through space between the realities. 

    Francis, Harry, and Severus had adjusted accordingly to the blast of power needed to throw them from one reality to another. The backlash of it knocked them out momentarily before they somehow proportioned themselves against it so the backlash was not as effective. They discovered that each reality lay side by side, separated by a single multi-colored space of nothingness. The power ripped a hole through reality, just large enough for the Mirror of Rebounds to pull them through but not enough to upset the overall balance of reality. 

    "And people wonder why _I_ was celibate," Severus said from behind Harry. 

    Then, too, there were those realities where no one was friendly enough to blithely inform the reality-jumpers of social, love, and private lives. In these cases, Harry was too busy running for his life as people often mistook him for being a double Voldemort had created in order to destroy the other Harry. When this happened, Severus floated along to protect him from multiple curses, charms, and hexes while Francis sought Dumbledore out and explained the situation very, very quickly. 

     After this happened for the eighth time, Francis commented something about how they needed a disguise for Harry before he then lost his voice from speaking too much. Harry and Severus watched Francis with amusement as the man waved his hands and tried to communicate another one of his theories to the boys of why they seemed to be traveling forward through time as they jumped realities. After losing his voice, Francis had Dumbledore write a note to other Dumbledores, explaining that yes, this was the same Francis Potter who died when he fell off his broom, only he was from a reality where he had not died when he fell off his broom, but instead married Pandora Snape and he, his great-grandson Harry Potter (who was genuinely the Boy Who Lived) and Severus Snape (dead, true, but the adopted grandson of Pandora) were looking for a good Tom Riddle to help them save their reality because, Pandora had explained to them through the same means in which they jumped realities, it was the only way they could save their reality. 

     No one was exactly sure how this good Tom Riddle could save the reality. They merely assumed that he would get rid of Voldemort. From that arose the question of what they would then do with the good Tom Riddle. Should they take him back home, or should they just keep him? 

     Francis tried to say something but all he could do was make breathy noises, and Harry and Severus were not willing to spend the time and energy to understand him. 

     Francis finally resorted to writing a single question down on parchment. _Perhaps we should use an illusion spell to disguise Harry; that way, there won't be so many people apt to attack him and my voice would not disappear again from too much use. _

     "And what sort of disguise should I use?" Harry asked. 

     "I wouldn't recommend it," Severus said. "One stray 'finite incantatum,' and your disguise would be lost. Try explaining _that _to people." 

     "Oh. Good point." 

     Dumbledore decided that it was not safe for Francis to travel without his voice, so he declared an immediate holiday for the reality jumpers. He made them stay a week at Hogwarts for rest and relaxation. "You're going to need it," he said grimly. With only a few weeks left until the NEWTS were taken, the students of Hogwarts were too busy studying to pay much attention to them. 

     Except, of course, Hermione. 

     "Of course you need to study," she informed Harry curtly as she dumped a heavy armload of books onto the library table he was seated at with Francis and Severus. The table bent from the weight. "Especially if you're jumping realities. You need to keep your studies up, and this is no excuse for your slipping. You did poorly in your OWLs here, and I will not have you do them poorly again." She sat down with every intent on tutoring him. Harry's breath stilled as he watched Hermione select one book and flip through the pages for him. It was not until that moment did Harry realize how much he missed Hermione and Ron. He was so used to their being there, and he had been so busy ever since he and Severus and Francis had begun jumping, that he had forgotten about his best friends. They had always been there for Harry when he needed it, and now they were gone. 

    Seeing Hermione filled Harry with a sense of homesickness and guilt. Before he knew what he was doing, Harry threw his arms around Hermione and gave her a fierce hug. Hermione looked shocked. As Harry pulled away from her, she laughed. "What was that for?" 

    "For always being my friend," Harry answered truthfully. "Because even if you aren't coming along, somehow, you and Ron always wind up being there for me." 

     On their fourth day of stay, Harry asked his great-grandfather and dead uncle a question that had been bothering him ever since the fourth reality they jumped. "Hey, due to the overwhelming mass of me who fall for guys, do you suppose I'm, well, gay?" 

    Francis blinked. "Gay?" he asked in his hoarse, crackly, barely recovered voice. "How on earth does liking men have anything to do with your being happy?" 

     Severus nudged him with an elbow. "Likes men," he explained. "It's a slang word." 

     "Oh." Francis processed the information and stored it away. "Well, we had a different use for the word 'gay' back in my day." Francis looked at Harry. "If it makes you feel any better, there is no such thing as that." 

     Harry blinked. "I don't understand." 

     "Harry, there is no rhyme or reason to human sexual attraction. You find that they are attracted not only to the opposite sex, the same sex, multiple ages, certain features or talents or likes or dislikes, but also animals." Harry made a face as he remembered a certain Potion Master's rather wild romp with a certain werewolf. The way Severus turned red was a sure sign that he, too, recalled that incident. Francis ignored their reactions. "So from that alone, I believe I may safely conclude there is no such thing as a choice of human sexuality. It is whatever you prefer, and each person is different, so each person will prefer something else. We limit ourselves to a single scope of thinking." Francis tapped Harry's forehead with his finger. "Don't do that. It's very dangerous." 

     "Oh." Harry was silent for a moment. "Well, I'm still worried. I feel like there is someone out there just waiting for me to come along, waiting as he has been for so long. It's not a comfortable feeling." He eyed Severus. "And if I found it is you. I swear I will kill myself." 

     "Don't bother, I'll kill me--er, him instead," Severus replied. "I don't want to be stuck with you for eternity."   
  
  
  


     Hermione stopped to see them off as Harry, Severus, and Francis prepared once more for another jump. She hugged Harry and Francis, and tried to hug Severus but all she got for her efforts was a draft of cold air. 

     "You keep studying," she told Harry firmly. "Don't let your knowledge slip, especially when you are going to be taking your OWLs this year." She fixed him with a firm glare. 

     "Miss Granger," said Severus the ghost solemnly, "if I never say this again to you, let it be known that I have always admired your tenaciousness." 

     Hermione grinned. "Why, thank you Professor!" 

     "Now, your taste in boyfriends on the other hand--" 

     The grin turned into a frown. "I wasn't aware that you were in a position to judge me for my taste in boyfriends, Professor." 

     "Indeed." Severus gave her an imploring look. "But really, _Neville Longbottom?_" 

    "Harry Potter?" Hermione countered. 

    Harry cleared his throat as he fiddled with the stem of his glasses. "I think I'm a great catch," he said. Hermione glared at him. 

    "No offense to you," she said, "but anyone who falls for someone like Snape needs his head checked." 

    "_I_ wouldn't fall for him." "No, I suppose not. It helps that he's your uncle, and dead to boot." Hermione hugged Harry once more. "Now, you stay out of trouble." 

     Harry rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding? With him babysitting?" Harry pointed at Severus, who sputtered angrily at the notion. Francis waved them quiet as he set up Pandora's Box and the Mirror of Rebounds, tilting it on its side again. 

     "Whenever you two are ready," he said. He tucked the letter Dumbledore had written for him in to one of his pockets. Harry and Severus turned to one another and began to silently gesture the other to do it. Severus did not trust the Mirror of Rebounds any further than he could kick it (though Harry was willing to bet Severus could kick it a good distance if he so put his mind to it), and Harry was reluctant to experience the pain in his scar again. Francis stared at them for a moment before he sighed. "Someone is going to have to do this." 

    Severus stubbornly crossed his arms before himself. Harry knew they would be waiting until both he and Francis probably died from old age. 

    "Fine." Harry nudged the Mirror of Rebounds with his foot. It spun immediately into a mini white supernova. Pandora's Box flung open; green and blue light flooded outward. Harry's hand flew to his forehead as his scar throbbed in pain. Hermione took a step back as she watched the three persons sucked into the whirling depths of the spinning Mirror of Rebounds. Just as Pandora's Box was swept into its depths, something snapped out of nowhere like a whip and cracked the Mirror of Rebounds. The mirror jumped and rolled backward before folding in on itself. Hermione's head swiveled about in time for her to see a strand of golden light with red flashes disappear. 


	11. Chapter 11

     Harry felt himself violently wrenched free from the invisible chain that held him, Francis, and Severus together as they spiraled downward through the mists of dark green and baby blue to the white opening at the very end. He threw his arm out to grab hold of Severus as they floated on beyond him, but missed. Unattached, he floated listlessly around and looked at the colors with eyes crossed from the agony his scar throbbed with. 

     A pressure built around him. He saw the white line that had been the opening Francis and Severus exited at. It zippered shut. Harry pressed one hand to his scar again. He rubbed his eyes with the other in an attempt to clear his vision enough to the point where he could focus his eyes. He saw someone in the mists, a little blur of a figure. Harry swam towards it, struggling to get close. The pain in his scar intensified as the pressure around him increased further. 

     "Help!" His voice, strangled and high-pitched, did not carry far in the misty realm of space between realities. Harry struggled further, but when the lancing pain became too much, he curled into a tight little ball and wrapped his arms over his head. If his head was a melon, he felt it would have burst by now. His fingernails sunk into the thick skin of his palms as he struggled not to scream from the pain. 

     The more intense it became, the more Harry lost his awareness of his surroundings. He did not feel the building pressure as the space between the realities began to heal itself of the infraction caused by the reality-jumpers. As the pain finally forced a ragged cry from Harry, the walls of the separate realities slammed together, all but crushing the fragile human body that had left behind. 

     In the ringing silence and the darkness, which is all that remained after the power fled, a tiny, sheepish voice said, "Oops." 

     Another said, "Your clumsiness is exceeded only by your dismally intoxicated wretchedness. So what are you going to do now?"   
  
  
  


     The first words Francis said when he emerged from the spinning portal of the Mirror of Rebounds were, "This place sure saw better days." A vast understatement on his part, for the Hogwarts Castle they currently were in had gone to ruins, as if aged a thousand years. But Francis could get away with such painfully obvious remarks because he was, in a word, a genius. Obviously, geniuses understood what they said a great deal better than other people. 

     At least that had always been Severus' opinion, and while Francis was a genius, he also had a habit of missing the bigger picture, so to speak. This may have partially been a defense mechanism of Francis'. After all, Francis could rather peacefully cope with the idea of being fifty years in the future and having to jump realities in search of the man who nearly killed him if he did not dwell on what that meant to him. What it meant to him was he could never return to the past--not to his twin daughters, son, wife, home, and world--but would henceforth reside in a world that perhaps did not suit him, a world that was so vastly different from what he had once lived in that it would potentially destroy him. 

    Severus felt that the defense mechanism should, in part, stop working now. And since Francis was currently studying the crumbling walls and the open sky where the roof had been torn off, he felt it was up to him to force Francis' attention to the current dire situation. 

     "Now where the hell did Harry Potter go now?" 

     No one expected a sardonic voice to reply. "He's gone. Where's the hell have you two been for the past two years in order to miss that, and how the hell did you manage to pop out of nowhere like that?" 

     Francis' and Severus' heads swiveled around to the direction of the sardonic voice to see a young man peering over a pile of rubble, looking bored and pouting because of it. He was thin and his face pointy. His pale hair swept back from his gray eyes and was held like that with a bandana that, when it was new, would have been white. The fresh scar that ran along the side of his face from the corner of his eye to the hinge of his jaw gave the otherwise relaxed young man a dangerous air. He stared suspiciously at the Mirror of Rebounds as Francis and Severus studied him. "Well?" 

     "What happened here?" Francis asked as he waved his hands around to indicate his surroundings. Draco Malfoy sighed and walked around the pile of rubble. He wore knee-length leather boots and his dark blue robes were open to reveal a pair of tattered trousers and a very stained shirt. The belt that circled his waist held two knives and his wand while a sword was strapped across his back. The bored expression on his face turned into something akin to sorrow before he looked at the two reality jumpers with a suspicious expression. 

     "Who are you?" he asked as his gaze settled upon Severus. 

     "It's a long story," the ghost grumbled. "Who I'm most worried about is Harry." 

     Draco said nothing as he squinted at Severus. "Hey, wait a minute!" Draco took several steps forward until he was standing toe to toe with Severus. "You're Professor Snape, aren't you?" Draco's face lit up with a bright smile. "I didn't recognize you with curly locks that could put Professor Lockhart to shame!" Severus' eyes popped wide at the statement, but before he could snarl a good comeback, Draco continued blithely. "That would also explain why you always had so much oil in your hair, and frankly, if I were you and I were dead and I had hair like that, I'd stay in hiding as well." 

     "Kid's got a loose lip," Francis observed dryly. Draco looked coolly at him. 

     "You: who are you?" 

     "I'm Francis Potter. I'm Harry' great-grandfather." 

     Draco blinked in astonishment. "The years have been kind to you!" he declared brightly, his abrupt switch of moods from cool disdain to excitement disquietingly eerie. "What's your secret?" 

     "Being pulled fifty years into the future," Francis said stoically. Draco blinked again, then shrugged. 

     "Ah," he said as he looked bored. "I suppose that would do it." 

     Francis gestured around again. "What happened to this place?" he asked. "It looks like it got torn apart and then was ravaged by the hoards of time for centuries!" 

     Draco looked around pointedly. "Well," he said, "I'm sure that any place where a battle with Voldemort raged for eight days and nights steady would look like this," he said. The others stared at him with shock and he sighed. "It's a long story," he said softly. 

    "Which we don't have time to hear," Severus cut in. "We have to find Harry." 

     "He's gone," Draco said as his face tightened with grief. 

    "No, our Harry," Francis said. "He should have followed us here." They looked at the Mirror of Rebounds, which was still. "Uh oh." 

     Severus marched over to the Mirror of Rebounds and glared down at it, as if he hoped to intimidate it into spitting out Harry. "Uh oh is right. What if he's back in the other reality? What if he's still stuck in the mirror?" 

     "Nothing that has ever happened before has ever led us to believe that this was possible." Francis folded his legs and plopped down in front of the Mirror of Rebounds. "Give me a moment to study the situation here." He closed his eyes. Draco looked at Severus with a question in his eyes and his hands wide in bewilderment. 

    "He's a genius," Severus whispered. "If he can't think of anything, then we're rather stuck. Now, you on the other hand . . ." One ghostly hand wrapped around Draco's upper arm. "Tell me more about this attack that took place here." 

     Draco shrugged. He did not appear affected by Severus' chilly touch. "Not much to tell. The years got darker and darker after Voldemort came back. Two years after graduation, everything came down to a final stand here. Voldemort attacked us steady for eight days and nights with his Dementors and Death Eaters and various nasty creatures. We started to lose on the sixth day, with this place crumbling around our heads and its magical shields being shattered to bits by the spells and hexes that the Dark Lord pummeled us with." 

     Draco paused and licked his dry lips. "Voldemort possessed a snake, you know. That great, ugly thing; he transfigured her into a human and she's one huge woman. Stands eight feet tall, is bald and green." A shudder rippled through his body. "Mean, nasty creature, she is. When the defenses here were finally overridden and Voldemort's forces swarmed us, we fought the best we could. In the end, Voldemort fell when Harry fought against him." 

     "Is it over? The war against Voldemort?" 

     Draco looked at Severus. His eyes narrowed and his lips pinched together. Severus was suddenly aware of how dangerous Draco was. Perhaps it was the sinister look that layered his features as his eyes narrowed and his scar stood out, livid against his pale flesh. Perhaps it was the lithe body tightening with tension. As a ghost, Severus did not worry about anything happening to him but for the anti-ghost charm. He knew Draco, and the lad lacked both the skill and the patience to perform it. 

     "The war with Voldemort ended when Harry destroyed him." A muscle jumped in his cheek. "However, I can't say the same for that snake-woman." His lip curled back in a sneer. "She's a devil, Professor Snape. Cruel, haughty, and absolutely crafty to boot. There aren't many left who can fight her. She's reduced the whole of the wizard world and the Muggle world to rubble." He turned away from Severus with a sigh. "Just about everyone's dead. So few people actually live now to fight." He laughed. It was bitter and it made the ghostly hairs on the back of Severus' neck stand on end. "We finally managed to get rid of the most powerful Dark Lord anyone has ever known, and the bastard goes and leaves someone worse behind!" 

     There was a slight pause as they fell silent. Draco rubbed his nose with the back of one hand. "Where's Harry?" Severus asked softly. "Did he survive?" 

     Sorrow crossed Draco's face. "Do you want to see him?" he asked. Severus nodded. Francis finally stirred from where he had been studying the Mirror of Rebounds. He stood up with one hand pressed to the line of his back. They heard his spine pop. 

     "I'm getting old," Francis muttered. Severus opened his mouth to speak but Francis cut his words off with an irritable wave of his hand. "Nothing," he said. "I can't think of any reason why Harry isn't with us, though I did think of a possible way we could find him. I'll tell you later. I want to see this reality's Harry." 

     Draco gave them a searching look. "Will you also explain what you mean by this reality and other realities and who your Harry is and such?" 

     Francis nodded his head empathetically. "Yes, yes, in due time." He motioned Draco to move. The pale man swept past them, his movements liquidly graceful. He led them through the ruins of Hogwarts. Most of the roof was missing, almost all towers had been knocked over, walls had been smashed, and piles of stone and mortar stood in areas. Some of them filled entire hallways, and Draco and Francis had to climb over them. 

     "It looks horrible from way up here on top," Draco explained as they walked. "Around the edges, because this is the area that took the brunt of Voldemort's blows. There aren't enough of us to continue fighting that snake-woman, let alone rebuild the castle. I doubt Hogwarts will ever be as beautiful as it once was. Hell, this world will never recover anyway." 

     "Who are all dead?" Severus asked solemnly. "Of those who attended Hogwarts, the Aurors, and the Ministry?" 

     Draco sighed. He did not bother looking over his shoulder at the two. "Let's just say," he said softly, "that those of us left are only a small rebel force that merely gnaws at the ankle of the empire the snake-bitch built." 

     "Nagini," Severus said absently. "The name of Voldemort's snake was Nagini." 

     "Wasn't she the one who bit Pandora?" Francis asked. 

     Severus nodded his head. "Nagini bit Pandora after she attacked Voldemort, and the poison spread so far through her that she had to seek refuge at her mother's family so they could cure her." 

     No one said anything then. Draco led them under fallen archways and through holes in the walls until they finally reached the middle of the Hogwarts. This, too, was missing a ceiling. In the middle of the area was a small cairn. Around it, in different tubs scattered here and there, were plants of all shapes and sizes. Each plant sported brightly colored flowers in full bloom. Their fruity scent filled the air. 

     "Here he is," Draco said as his strides lengthened. He walked directly over to the cairn and sat down on a bench someone had placed before the cairn. "This is Harry. I like the flowers and I'm sure he does too, though it was Black who planted them all." He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. The others stared at him with dismay and shock. He smiled sadly at no one in particular. "He fell the moment Voldemort died. There was a flash of green light, he yelled something about his scar, and he just fell over dead." He scrubbed his suspiciously wet eyes with the back of one hand. "McGonagall said Voldemort might have launched one final attack at Harry that got through his defenses. She also said that they were linked, and perhaps when Voldemort died, Harry died with him because of that link. I don't understand any of that though. All I know is that my Harry is dead." 

     If he had been alive, a shiver would have run down the length of Severus' spine. "When the object is destroyed, the shadow is obliterated," Severus whispered in dawning horror, low enough so no one heard him. 

     A long silence followed. They watched as a bright yellow butterfly danced over the piles of rubble, hovered over the cairn for a moment, and then flew onward to a cheerful red flower. Francis was the first to speak. 

     Francis fiddled with the goggles that sat upon his rumpled blonde hair. "Well, I guess it's our turn to explain who we are then. We're reality jumpers looking for a good Tom Ri--wait, did you say_ your _Harry?"   
  
  
  


     The pain in Harry's scar was nothing compared to this crushing agony of his entire surroundings slamming into him. The agony seeped into every cell of his body, each and every one exploding into a frenzy of torture. He could feel his mental shields bend to the pain, ready to shatter and fling him down a spiraling state of hysterical madness. Harry flung his mind wide as he sought to escape the pain and preserve his sanity. He threw himself beyond the region of the space. With the speed of thought, he flew past the other realities in search of a single, stable mind he could find refuge in. 

     It was a bright green beacon that stood out to him. Not as the bright as the other in the distance, but closer and far more familiar. Harry fell into the beacon, past mental defenses too like his own, and buried himself deep in the conscious awareness. 

     Wha? . . . Oh no! Not you again! 

     please don't make me leave can't go back hurts throb pain don't want to go back hurt scar pain don't kick me away want to stay 

     ?? 

     hurt don't go back don't want to knock me away must find grandfather find Severus must go to them can't leave don't make me go please hurt away from pain 

     ?? Stop, stop! Stop already! I can't make sense of anything you're trying to say! 

     . . .ouch? 

     Well, that's a start. There's only one syllable. Now, what is this about pain? 

     It hurts. 

     I'm sure it does. How and why and what? 

     How why what? 

     How did you get hurt, why did it happen, and what are you doing here? 

     They crashed together. Bam, like that. 

     What did? 

     The realities I was jumping through. I got stuck in them and they crashed together. I was supposed to be with my family. Now I am not. I don't want to do back. 

     So now you're pinned between two realities? 

     Don't kick me out of your head again. Please don't make me go back. Hurts too much. I can't stand to go back. 

     Well, I suppose I won't kick you out of my head this time. But who are you? 

     I'm you. You're me. We're just different. 

     ?? 

     From different realities. 

     Ooookaaaaayyy . . . I understand that much. I don't know why you were jumping the realities in the first place though. So why? 

     It's because we have to find a good Tom Riddle. Pandora said so. 

     Why? Who? _TOM RIDDLE? _

     It's to save our reality. My great-grandmother said so. A good Tom Riddle is supposed to help us. 

     Sigh._ A good Tom Riddle, eh? That's an oxymoron is_ I_ ever heard one. Here, let me see your memories--no, don't struggle. If I'm you and you're me, then you have nothing to worry about. And relax. It's easier for me to see what's in your mind. I can help you, you know, or at least my mom can.. _

     The little girl? 

     Heh. Better not let her hear you say that. She's very self-conscience of how small she is. God, make one comment on her lack of tits and she tears right into you. Well, maybe if I hadn't said that in front of Professor Snape she might not have been so mad . . . 

     Harry felt himself relax under the babbling of his other self. He felt the other Harry poking around in his mind. The other Harry poked a sore spot and apologized as a twinge of pain shivered through both of them._ How did she become your mother? _Harry asked. 

     Ah, something about skipping reality and she felt Voldemort's power. Ah! So that's why you're jumping--oh, sorry. Anyway, Mom went to investigate the power and arrived moments after I somehow vanquished Voldemort. My father's spirit was there, lingering momentarily to see that I got care. Mom said she could help me develop the power I used against Voldemort if he wanted her to, so my father gave me to her care. 

     I got stuck with the Dursleys. 

    Oooooh, lucky you. 

    It wasn't all that great. 

    I was being sarcastic. 

    Oh. What sort of power did you use against Voldemort? 

     Apparently, in my reality, one of my ancestors married a demon. Demonic power jumps generations; my family's finally settled in me. I used the power to put up some sort of shield against the curse Voldemort threw at me and then used fire to destroy him-- 

     Fire? 

     My ancestor was a rune demon whose element was fire. That element passed through the ranks. I only know of any of this because Mom is from a family of, well, the family does have rune demons. 

    Oh. Harry was at a loss of what to say. Of all the other realities he had been to, he had never had non-human blood in his veins. Well, there was still the question of whether Pandora's mother was human or not, but he never thought he could have demon blood. Which reminded Harry of his past exploits. _Are you snogging Professor Snape or Draco?_

    There was a stunned silence on the other end. _Excuse me? Snogging Mister Tall, Dark, and Unpleasant or the Stick-In-My-Arse Snotball? Heeellllloooo, do I look that desperate for a lay to you? . . . Oh. Oh! I see where this question came from. Oooooooh. Oh god! How could you possibly live with being accosted in the men's bathroom like that? _

     Ugh. Don't remind me. 

     Harry felt the continuous prodding of the other Harry and reached outward to touch him in the same response. Unfamiliar with what he was doing, he jabbed a little harder than he should and felt the other Harry wince in response. 

    _ Sorry. _

     Nah. It's okay. 

     Harry rummaged through the other Harry's memories. He knew he should have felt as if he was intruding, but this was him after all, and if the other Harry didn't mind, then why should he? He prodded about, watching the playing memories with interest.   
  


     The little girl-woman opened a door and entered into Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore glanced over at her from where he had been talking to a tight-lipped Professor Snape. "Ah, what brings you here, Miss Runes?" he asked. 

     Miss Runes tugged at the little hand in her own and stepped forward. Snape looked over his shoulder with clear disdain, which quickly dissipated into shock. "You like?" Miss Runes asked as she twiddled with her big straw hat. It had a pink ribbon wrapped around the crown and a bunch of flowers with matching petals at one side. The dress she wore was twice as large as she, and as pink as the ribbon. She wore a pair of white high heels and a string of pearls that dragged across the floor. 

     The miniature Harry next to her wore an almost exact getup. His too-large dress was blue with white sequins. Instead of a hat or a string or pearls, he wore a black fur wrap around his shoulders. Both he and Miss Runes had bright red (slightly crooked) lipstick, gobs of eye shadow, and blush. 

     "Very creative Halloween getups," said Dumbledore as he stood up. He smiled at Harry, who nervously peered at him around Miss Runes. 

     Miss Runes nodded proudly. "I'm a little girl masquerading in her mother's clothes. Harry's a little boy masquerading as a little girl masquerading in her mother's clothes." She pushed her straw hat back as the frame drooped before her eyes. "I told Harry that if you didn't like it, I'd take him home and throw a sheet over him, put in a couple of holes for him to see, and he could go trick-or-treating as a ghost." 

     "I find it quite charming," said Dumbledore. He picked up the candy dish on his desk and offered it to the two visitors. "I assume you are here to give your annual report before you go about on your trick-or-treating?" Miss Runes nodded her head vigorously. 

     "See, Harry?" She turned to Harry. "Mister Dumbledore doesn't mind the costumes. He thinks you look charming!" Harry smiled nervously. 

     "Albus!" Professor Snape stepped forward. He glowered coldly at Miss Runes. "Runes fails to realize how degrading this must be for the hero," he sneered at Harry, who flinched and hid behind Miss Runes, "of the wizarding world." 

    Dumbledore gave Professor Snape a warning look. "It is charming," he said firmly. He offered the candy dish to Harry. Harry looked from the candy dish to Dumbledore, and then to the candy dish. He tentatively reached out for a handful of the black licorice beans.   
  


    Your mom dressed you up as a little girl? 

     I know it seems sort of odd, but on a hindsight, the look on Snape's face was definitely worth it! 

     There was a mutual silence as they continued to poke and prod about in each other's minds. Harry caught sight of a memory of the other Harry's new mother holding him as a tiny baby, balancing on a lamp, and bouncing bricks off of Sirius Black's head as he yelled at her to let him have Harry. 

    _ She didn't want to give me up, _said the other Harry by way of explanation. _She had a duty to see that Dumbledore was to be informed about me, and she didn't know if there were other Voldemort minions running around. I guess I was also an excuse for her to settle down in a single place and actually have a family. Dumbledore wasn't too happy with that decision; he wanted me to stay with the Dursleys, but Mom was most convincing. _

     What did she do? 

     She hung Professor Snape out of the Gryffindor Tower window by his toes and threatened to drop him on his head if she didn't get to keep me. 

    How in the world would that convince Dumbledore? 

    You've seen how small Mom is and you know how tall Snape is. Dumbledore was impressed that she could hold me, hold Professor Snape upside down, and cling to the outside wall of the Gryffindor Tower at the same time. I guess he figured that anyone who could do that was capable of taking care of any Death Eater who wanted to get revenge for Voldemort's demise. 

    Ah. 

    After a moment, the other Harry withdrew from Harry's mind. Harry labeled him Harry2, just because it was easier to keep them apart. 

    _Let's go see Mom. _Light and objects flooded visional senses. Harry realized that Harry2 had kept his eyes closed during their exchange. Harry felt their minds meld together in an odd mishmash of one. They were aware of the same thing and their body moved in a graceful synchronization. Harry2 knew where he was going, and Harry eagerly followed after. They walked out of the bedroom they had been, through the small hall, into a kitchen with pristine light blue tiles and matching countertops. 

    Miss Runes stood before the kitchen sink on top of a tall footstool. She shook a sieve as Harry2 sat down on the tall stool beside the kitchen island. Various ingredients for spaghetti sat upon the island. 

    _ Ugh. Mom's cooking. _

    What's wrong with that? 

     There are a few things of things Mom can do exceptionally, but cooking isn't one of them. 

     What do you mean? 

     Harry2 did not answer. In that moment, Miss Runes turned to them. Harry could see spaghetti strands within the sieve. "I think it's done cooking," she said. Her expression was open and eager. Harry had never before noticed what her eyes were like, though she currently wore a pair of black-lensed Laura Croft glasses, which artfully concealed her eyes. "How can you be sure if spaghetti is done cooking or not?" 

     "I heard that chefs throw it against the wall. If it sticks, then it's done cooking." 

     "Really?" Miss Runes stared at the spaghetti in the sieve for a moment before she pitched its contents against the wall. The spaghetti struck the wall with a dull splut, and then fell to the ground. A few strands stuck to the wall. 

     "I don't think that's what they meant," Harry2 muttered weakly. 

    They stared at the pile of spaghetti for a moment. "Well, I just mopped the floor today," Miss Runes began uncertainly. "If I rinsed it off, would we still eat it?" Another moment passed in silence. She finally sighed and tossed the sieve into the sink. "Pizza pie tonight?" she asked as she jumped from the footstool and walked over to the telephone set low on the wall. 

     "Sure." Harry2 scooped the sticky mess of pasta into the garbage and washed his hands as his mom placed an order for a large pizza pie with three types of meat, two types of cheese, olives, chives, and peppers. He sat down again on the kitchen stool and waited until she finished. 

    _ Miss Runes? Is that what your mom is called? _

     Marcia Runes. Actually, her real name is Sydney Geneve, but she discarded it because the man who rescued her from being a scientific study subject chose her given name, and her surname was taken from the current Mother Empress. I guess it reminded her too much of the past she no longer has, but I don't understand it since she got her chosen name from Nandin Sydney, and he's my adopted uncle. See, technically, Mom doesn't exist. She was immortal when she travled back into time and accidently killed one of her ancestors. It screwed up her entire future, so she was never born. 

     I'm sorry. 

    Don't be. Mom likes not having to pay taxes. 

    The thoughts they exchanged were lightening fast, their speed beyond that of even a single heartbeat. Still, Marcia cast her son an odd look as she finished ordering. As she puttered about the kitchen and cleaned up her latest disaster in cooking, Harry and Harry2 watched her and waited for their cue to inform her of Harry's presence. 

     Marcia finished her cleaning and made two cups of tea then, one for herself and the other for Harry. She set his cup of tea before him along with a bowl of sugar, and then dragged another tall stool over to the island to sit before him. Harry2 waited until she was scooping spoonfuls of sugar into her tea before he spoke. Watching her, Harry was reminded of how Francis had liked his tea with lots of sugar. He felt a pang of loneliness. He had grown quite accustomed to his great-grandfather's quirky habits, and he found missed him (and Severus) dearly. 

     "Mom," Harry2 began. Her head twisted a moment to peer at him, though it was impossible to tell what her eyes were doing behind her glasses. "You know those two times when I had a strange presence in my mind? The same presence that asked who you were?" 

     "Hmmm?" Marcia sipped her tea. 

     "Well, I found out what it was." 

     "Mmmmm." 

     "It was me." 

     Marcia choked on her tea. She pounded her breast a moment with one fist to clear her lungs of the tea and stared at her son incredulously. "How could it be you if it was someone else?" 

     "It's a different me. He's here with me now." 

     One eyebrow twitched thoughtfully. "Are you two getting along? No territorial dispute and all that?" 

     "We're fine. But this Harry is in a bit of a spot. He and his uncle and his great-grandfather are jumping realities in search of a good Tom Riddle--I'll explain that more later--and somehow he got stuck between two realities when jumping, and they smashed together. He came to me to escape the pain." 

     "His body needs to be removed from where it's stuck," said Marcia knowingly. "It's not crushed; not in the least. Pressure just built up to the point where he had to flee his body." She took a thoughtful sip of her tea and looked pointedly at Harry2. "Is he with you now, this very moment?" Harry2 nodded his head. "Well, then. Make him go back." 

    _ What? But it hurts! I don't to go back! _

     Mom knows what she's doing. Mom will get you out. 

     I don't care. I'm not going back. The pain . . . 

     Mom will get you out of that pain. Trust her. I would! Well, most of the time. 

     How comforted I now feel. 

     Stop grumbling. Everything will work out just fine in the end if you let her help. Do you want your body to remain where it is? 

     . . . Okay . . . But I don't know how to return. 

     "Mom. He says he doesn't know how to get back." 

     Marcia waved her hand impatiently. "So boot him out. It's your head. Once out, he'll have to go back to his own body. I'll follow after, yank him out of that jam by the seat of his britches, and bring him back in time for the pizza." She looked proud of herself for that conclusion. 

     "Alright." 

    _ No! I'm not rea--_

     WHAM! 

     Pain. It filled his entire body, oozed from every individual pore, and assaulted his senses from everywhere. It was not as great as the pain that forced him to flee his body--or perhaps his body had numbed enough in his absence that it did not seem to be as great. 

     "Hey! He's back!" 

     Harry knew that voice. The pressure eased up around him and elevated the agony to a lesser degree. He managed to pry one single eyelid open to see Cousin Quigley staring down at him with concern as sweat trickled down his body from the exertion of keeping the two realities from slamming completely together. He had his shoulders pressed against one wall with his legs pushing against the other. Even now, however, Harry could see indents trying to close completely. 

     Marcia appeared above their heads. She appeared unaffected by the walls of realities closing around them. She floated above Cousin Quigley, looked behind Harry, and then at him with a puzzled expression. "Is that the Bloody Baron?" she asked as she pointed. 

     "Yes. He's a relative," Cousin Quigley said helpfully. He squinted at Marcia. "Who are you?" 

     Marcia turned away from where she had been making faces at the Bloody Baron. "Marcia Runes. I suppose we should go through formalities and all that, but Harry here is having a bit of a problem. Best we help him out of this mess before you lose your strength to hold the walls back." She grabbed a handful of Harry's robes around his shoulders. "Care to join us for pizza?" she asked. Cousin Quigley managed to free one hand to wave her away with. 

     "No. If we join you, we'll lose track." 

     "Ah. Well, then, so long." Marcia drew Harry close before dancing away between the realities. Harry watched the different realities zip past him. It was nothing like jumping between the space of two realities. Marcia dashed along the edges with Harry on tow, prancing from one reality to another through invisible leaks created from Chance. Together, Harry and Marcia had little more substance than shadows, but they moved as swiftly as thoughts. Pictures of what each reality held whizzed past them, too fleeting and too many for any one scene to create an affect against Harry. He clung closely to Marcia. Unsure of what else to do, Harry screwed his eyes tight to avoid becoming dizzy at the pictures. 

     Then they came to an abrupt halt. Harry cautiously opened one eye, saw the corner of a blue kitchen island, and smelled cheese. He opened both eyes and saw Harry2 not paying attention to the two arrivals. He tried to gather up the sticky strands of melted cheese that stuck to his slice of pizza. Watching the other Harry tug at the cheese, his eyes crossed and his head bent close to his task, Harry saw how utterly different they were. 

     In all the other realities Harry had jumped through, he was easily mistaken for himself, even if his other self was two years older than him. Harry2 was bulkier with muscle than Harry was, though still slim, and his hair was longer and pulled back into a braid. However, the one thing that made them so utterly different from one another was the inky black tattoo that ran down the length of Harry2's arm. Across the back of his hand it curved into the sharp snout of a dragon. Two red eyes slanted fiercely at the joint of his wrist. 

     The eyes blinked. Harry jumped backwards in surprise against Marcia, who had picked up a pitcher of water. Water splashed all over but Marcia did not drop the pitcher. "Sorry," Harry said. He quickly snatched a kitchen towel up and held it out to her. She silently accepted it and began to pat her clothes dry. "I didn't mean to. It's just that your tattoo's eyes blinked at me." Harry looked at Harry2 as he spoke. 

     "This thing?" Harry2 held up the arm. The dragon twined around his arm and up to his shoulder, disappearing beneath his shirt. Each time the muscles in his arm moves, the dragon seemed to twist with life. The red eyes blinked again. Harry jumped where he was standing. "It's alive," Harry2 said ominously with a bitter smile. "It's the Ember Death." 

     A somber mood fell over the two Harrys, but Marcia did not seem to be bothered by it. Marcia set the pitcher of water down before her son and beamed at him with a mother's pride. "Desperate times," she said with a light voice, "calls for desperate measures. With the return of What's-his-name--" 

     "Voldemort," Harry2 reminded her. "--if I can't spell it, I don't see why I have to say it." 

     "You can't spell a lot of things, Mom. You can't even balance a checking account." 

     "That's why I charge everything." She turned to Harry. "I wanted to take extra precautions at ensuring my sweetie's safety. I suggested that family could look after him, but he didn't like the idea." Harry2 grimaced and Marcia paused a moment to glare at him. "Something about how the family somehow managed to burn half of Hogsmeade down the last time they tried to protect him shot that idea out of the water. Anyway, we decided for my Harry to undertake a mission he normally wouldn't have done until he reached the peak of his youth and passed into the stage of adulthood." 

     "Which is?" 

     "It's a demon thing," Harry2 said as he eyed his slice of pizza and took a bite. 

     Marcia leaned close to whisper in Harry's ear. "He has to go into rut, which signifies that he has hormones and is physically capable of taking on the responsibilities of adulthood. For him, it won't happen for another fifteen years, give or take a few. We really couldn't wait that long." Harry2 pretended not to hear what his mother just said. "The mission was to gain his full power and the use of Ember Death, which is the ultimate attack of any rune demon whose element is fire. The reason why it is the ultimate attack is because Ember Death is a sentient being that lives and acts under the command of its master. He succeeded, which is why he's got the mark. Anyway, enough of this." Marcia pushed Harry into a seat. "We should eat the pizza before it gets cold." 

     She handed napkins out and then passed the pizza around. Just as Harry bit into his slice, he felt a stirring in the air. A presence entered their midst, something curious and hopeful, but not dangerous. Only the barest sense of it existed, as it would not manifest itself into a physical shape. Marcia turned about in her chair and gazed at the wall for a moment, before shrugging and going back to eating her pizza. "The presence is friendly," she said. "When you're done eating your pizza, I will take you back to the reality where your great-grandfather and uncle are waiting." 

     The presence stirred, and then disappeared. 

     But not before Harry felt the presence give him a big wet kiss on the cheek.   
  
  
  


     "I had to do it," Draco told Francis and Severus with a big, silly grin as they glared at him. "It was an opportunity and I went for it." He brushed his lips with his fingertips. 

     Severus pointed an accusing finger at Francis. "You handed him the opportunity on a silver platter." 

     Francis shrugged. "Well, he had Snape blood, and I was right when I figured he could use the Mirror of Rebounds to discover where Harry went without some odd repercussion of being yanked into another reality. At least we know Harry's safe now, being that he's with another Harry and apparently they haven't tried to kill one another." 

     "Yet," Severus muttered as he crossed his arms before himself. 


	12. Chapter 12

     "I don't know why you want to look for a good Tom Riddle," Harry2 muttered around his crust. "I think that anyone who was to become Lord Voldemort in the first place isn't someone to trust anyway." 

     Harry shrugged. "Pandora said he could've taken over the world through kindness and charm. After he ensnared the hearts of the wizarding world, they would have handed him everything on a silver platter. I guess it's true what they say; honey captures more flies than vinegar." 

     "Nonsense," said Marcia knowingly as she waved her fork in the air. "Horse poop works better than honey." The two Harrys stared incredulously at her. "Well, any sort of poop, actually . . . What?" 

     "Mo-om! I'm still trying to eat here," Harry2 whined. 

     "Never mind that. You need to watch your calorie intake. No need to look like that pompous little piglet, Dudley, running around on the next street over." Marica stood up and walked over to the refrigerator. "Who wants dessert?" 

     "No, thank you," Harry said politely. "I am quite stuffed. The pizza pie was very good." It had been a long time since he had gotten to eat pizza pie. Not since the first week Severus had begun haunting the Dursleys, which felt like years to Harry. Gosh, so much had happened since then. 

     "Well, I guess we better send you back to that reality then." Marcia turned from the refrigerator and began to rummage through a small kitchen drawer. "I've got one of those Dores around here somewhere . . ." She riffled through the contents and then crowed triumphantly. "I found some!" She withdrew two small blue balls from the drawers and held them out for Harry to see. "These are nice little things. My mother always makes them for me." She walked back to the kitchen island and sat down. She set the two balls before Harry. They were roughly the size of baseballs and wobbled as if made from jelly. Marcia poked one and her finger sank into it. 

     "You see, for me, dimension skipping is exhausting work, especially with extra cargo on two. I try not to do it more than once in a twenty-four hour period." Harry looked at Marcia. She did not look drained to him. She seemed to be as peppy as she always was. "These are fairly accurate. They will open into a doorway that will put you close to your relatives. Besides," Marcia gave Harry a sly look, "it's not nearly as dizzy as skipping dimensions. You just pass through like you would a door." 

     Harry stared at the ball. "How is it_ fairly _accurate?" he asked suspiciously. 

     Marcia sniffed. "Well, you have to take in how immense this dimension you're going into is. I mean, aside from earth itself, you have the whole of infinity and space to actually get lost in. If you get placed with a hundred feet of your original destination when compared to being in the same galaxy much less proper planet, then yes, I'd have to say it's fairly accurate." 

     "Oh." He still studied the ball with no small amount of trepidation. Marcia was silent as she chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip and studied Harry in her own way. After a moment, she stood up and scooped the two balls into her hands. She walked over to a section of the wall bare of anything but white paint. 

     "This is how it works." She tossed one ball at the base of the floor. It hit the side of the wall and splattered about in perfect little circle-shaped droplets. Each droplet began to leak a color. The color swept out and upward until a circular door stood before them. "You have to know where you want to go. You don't just skip dimensions, you also move from place to place in a single area. You need to have a firm picture of where you are going, and if that is not possible, who you are going to. The magic within the ball pinpoints the direction and the area you are going to. It creates a bridge between that place and the place you are using the ball, and allows you to cross the gap." Harry looked at the door. It was a solid blue color exactly like the balls. He could not see beyond it. 

     "Nothing to it," said Harry2 as he stood up and walked over to stand before the door. He stuck his hand out to the door and it went through the color. He withdrew it. "You can go right on through without a problem." 

     Marcia closed both hands around the other blue ball, concentrated a moment, then turned to Harry and gently pressed the blue ball into his hand. "Keep that safe," she said. "Any rough hit against it will cause the Dore to open up. I have already infused it with the sense of wherever I am. If you are ever in trouble and you ever need help, you go ahead and use that to come right to me." 

     "Are you sure?" Harry asked as he looked at the blue ball. It squished between his fingers like playdough. 

     "Positive." Marcia grinned at Harry. "I seem to attract trouble. If you have trouble bothering you and I show up, then trouble will probably flock over to my side and leave you be." Harry smiled back. That made sense, given all of what he had ever went through with trouble. As Harry started through the door, Marcia's hand fell upon his shoulder and pulled him back. "Just one last question," she said curiously. "Who were those two men who kept the space between dimensions apart enough for you not to get crushed?" 

     "Them? They're the Bloody Baron and Cousin Quigley. The Bloody Baron is my Uncle Hector Snape; he's one of my ancestors from long ago. Cousin Quigley is another ancestor, but he's also a family ghost and the father of Professor Snape." Harry jabbed a thumb at Harry2. "He knows what I mean. He'll explain it." 

     Marcia pressed one finger against her mouth. She looked the very picture of youthful inquiry, with her hair pulled back into two pigtails, one on either side of her head. "A family _ghost?_" 

     Harry nodded. A feeling of uncertainty pooled in the pit of his stomach. He was getting used to uncertainty, with all sorts of twists and turns popping up and people ruining beliefs he had for a long while. He knew Marcia was going to shatter an illusion he had. "What is it?" he asked in a resigned voice. 

     Marcia shrugged. "I don't know what to say, really I don't. It's difficult to explain." She removed her glasses and Harry saw her eyes for the first time. They were solid red. There were no pupils or whites, just complete, solid red irises, a swirling mass of crimson and scarlet. Until that moment, Harry had never been fully aware of how inhuman she actually was. "I see things that most people can't, and one of the things are energy waves. There are distinct energy waves between species, genders, and yes, even life and death." Marcia patted Harry2's arm. "You know, the first time I saw my Harry, he was giving off the most beautiful shade of scarlet. He still does. I know the difference between the dark energies that a ghost emits and the bright energies someone alive emits. Your Cousin Quigley is no ghost. He's as alive as you or I. Well, you, I should say, since technically I don't exist." 

     "But . . . But he died." 

     "Says who?" 

     Harry did not answer. He assumed that Cousin Quigley died, but come to think about it, no one had ever mentioned how or even when. "I don't know," he said finally. "He attended Hogwarts in the seventeen-hundreds. I remember him saying that he helped start the first school of witchcraft and wizardry after the American Revolution. That's a long time to be alive. And he looks younger now than what I have seen him when he was alive . . . Well, at some points of his life." 

     Marcia gazed at Harry with her solid eyes. He squirmed uncomfortably at the sight of them. As if knowing how he felt, she slid the glasses up the bridge of her nose to hide her eyes once more. "Ask him," she said. "Whenever you catch up with that Cousin Quigley, you ask him why he' not dead even if he's pretending to be otherwise." She waved her hand. "Now, run along. The entrance should put you outside and a little beyond Hogwarts." 

     She stepped back and waved goodbye to him with a cheeky grin. Harry2 joined her with an identical cheeky grin. Their cheerful mood, so quick to change after the seriousness that just took place, was infectious. "Find your family at Hogwarts," Marcia told him. "If that's the place you were heading for, and you didn't appear with them, likely chances are that they'll wait there for you." 

     Harry nodded. He gripped the Dore in his hand well enough so he would not lose his grasp, squared his shoulders, and stepped through the entrance. As he disappeared, Marcia frowned. 

     "I've got a bad feeling," she said suddenly. 

     "What?" Harry2 looked at her. 

     "Oh, it's just that I feel guilty about letting him roam the world alone like that, and I feel like he's going to get into trouble." 

     Harry2 smiled and patted his mom's shoulder. "It's just your maternal instincts and the fact he is me," he assured her. She looked uncertain. 

     "Could be. But still . . . At least he has the Dore. That should help."   
  
  
  


     It was night out. Harry found himself standing in what was left of the Quidditch fields just outside Hogwarts. He could see the jagged ruins in the moonlight. In the far off distance, he also thought he could see a single candle glowing. He was not sure if it was an illusion from the distance or not. Somewhere in the darkness, a branch snapped in half. Harry jumped at the dry sound and whirled around to face it. The bleachers of the Quidditch fields had been torn apart or removed long ago. The only thing that let him know what the place actually was were the hoops on either end of the field and one lone tower that somehow managed to remain in a single piece. Everywhere were scattered broken boards and jagged rocks. 

     The door that Harry had stepped through was gone. Alone, in the darkness and in a place that he had loved but was now ruins of what it had once been, the hair on the back of Harry's neck rose on end. It felt as if the world was watching him and just waiting for a single chance to do, well, Harry was not too sure of what the world wanted to do, but he had the vague sensation that it would not be pleasant. 

     He hunched over and began to walk swiftly to Hogwarts. In the distance, a wolf howled. Harry froze and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand further on end. He cast one futile look over to the dark mass of woods that was the Forbidden Forest. It had overgrown its borders and surrounded the castle and Quidditch field. What creatures roamed far and wide beyond their domain? Harry's eyes traveled upward to where the moon shone, full and bright in the clear night sky. 

     He took one step forward and then froze again, nearly falling over, as another branch behind him snapped. Harry did not look over his shoulder. He felt something was coming--no, he_ knew _something was coming. He slowly moved his right hand to his waist where his wand was tightly secured. He slowly began to pull it out, and then a heavy weight slammed into his back. 

     Harry scrambled wildly for his footing when the heavy weight slammed into him again. It knocked the breath out of his lungs as fingers jabbed harshly at pressure points in his right elbow and right side of his neck. Sensation fled from that half of his body. His wand fell from senseless fingers. Unfriendly hands wrapped around his face, the fingers knitting together to bridge and cover his mouth. The person yanked Harry backwards and slammed one bony knee harshly into Harry's lower back. 

     Harry screamed in pain as colors burst in his vision. Jolts of agony ran down his spine to the very tips of his fingers and toes. He dropped the Dore as his body slumped over his attacker's knee. 

     "_Lumos._" Light flared and Harry stared numbly at the person before him. It was a woman with tangled brown hair. Her blue eyes were wide in her narrow, bony face. There was no mistaken the crazed look in them. She dropped her wand to the ground as it continued to illuminate the area. As Harry tried to surge out of her grasp, she clubbed him with one fist. He rolled away and she kicked him viciously in the ribs. 

     Harry cried out again and tried to gather his strength up to make another attempt at escaping. The woman dropped to her knees beside him and wrapped one hand around his neck. Fingers pressed into pressure points. Harry felt his strength leave. She yanked him upright by the root of his hair and leaned his limp body against her shoulder. She hissed and giggled when she brushed his hair back to reveal his scar. "You'll do," she muttered. "Oh yes. You'll do." She dropped the wand, still illuminating the area, and closed her hands around Harry's Adam apple. She giggled again as she squeezed. 

     Harry convulsed twice as his body reacted against the pain and the sudden lack of oxygen. As a wolf howled in the distance and the woman flinched at the sound, Harry passed out.   
  
  
  


     He awakened when something slithered, burning, over his leg. 

     Harry's eyes snapped wide open. It took him a moment to realize that the large brown expanse before him was the roof of some cave-like room. Remembering the attack that had knocked him out, Harry bolted upright and jerked to a rough stop. 

     He fell backwards with a thump and clinks of the chains that bounds his wrists to the thick slab of stone he lay upon. His chest heaved with frantic breathing as he tried to kick his legs free and found he had been bound at the ankles. The slithering traveled up his body. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and forced his breathing to steady out. He knew he had to remain calm. He could not panic; he was not going to allow the situation to control him. With that thought firmly implanted in his mind, Harry opened his eyes and looked around. 

     Beside him, even taller than Hagrid though not nearly as wide, was the strangest woman he had ever seen. In the dim light, cast from the glowing torches set in brackets on the wall, the woman's hairless skin was a dark green. Her nose was flat and her eyes were curved like a snake's. Harry looked over his body--where did his clothes go? He was naked! 

     Harry felt his face burn with embarrassment when he realized the slithering, burning feeling was created from the woman drawing one finger along the length of his body. The end of her finger smoked and blistered from contact with Harry. Over his hipbone, the sway of his waist, and up the side of his ribs. When the finger finally reached his collarbone, it stopped. The woman's black slits of eyes, filled with a bloodthirsty maliciousness, looked into Harry's. A shiver ran down his sore spinal column as she licked her lips appreciatively. He tried not to notice how long and slim her tongue was, and definitely not how it was split in a Y at the end. 

     "Perfect," she hissed. Her voice filled the room, drifting into the shadows beyond what Harry could see. She was overpowering and felt hungry. Harry had once thought Severus had presence--the man could fill an entire room with his dark boding and sinister sarcasm--but that was like a small match flame to this woman's raging bonfire. 

     The finger that had traced his body rubbed the scar on his forehead. He flinched at the touch even as he felt his scar burn and the woman's flesh smoke and blister more from the contact. "You live." Her words were drawn out and clipped at the end. The tone lent emphasis upon the very idea that this woman was not human. Harry felt choked with the sense of her being infinity dark and filled with disease. "How you managed to evade usss for two yearsss I know not. You and that blonde lover of yoursss, no doubt, living in that worthlessss pile of rocksss." 

     She drew away from Harry, taking too gigantic steps back to study the overall scene. Harry flexed his wrists and twisted his hands in their bindings. The growing sensation of impending doom was beginning to choke him even more than her presence. He had to get away. He could not stay near her. She would tear him apart and then rebuild him into what she wanted, and she would do it without remorse, and impatiently at that. 

     The woman smiled coldly at Harry. From out of the shadows emerged a downtrodden creature. It looked like it was a human, but it moved as if broken from too much pain, suffering, and torture. It bent close to the ground, too humbled to do more than just crawl on its hands and knees. It pressed itself to the woman's legs and whimpered loudly as one large hand dropped onto its head. 

     Too wrapped in rags, Harry could not distinguish who the person was, much less the person's sex. A tremble rippled through his body. 

     "You," the woman said to Harry, "will be the inssstrument I ssshall ussse to bring back my Massster. He needsss a good, ssstrong body to ressside within." She stepped forward and laid both hands on his shoulders. Harry bit his lip to keep from crying out as her lingering touch burned him. He smelled the scent of burning flesh in the air and she hissed with pleasure. "Good." She turned to the shadows. "Call back the raidersss!" she commanded gleefully. "We must have people for the ssserimony! The ssserimony in which we shall bring back our Massster!" 

     Harry had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he knew he was not going to live through what would happen. In the shadows, something scampered to carry out her command. The woman looked down at Harry and smiled, showing her sharp, pointy teeth. He was suddenly reminded of Harry2 and Marcia. Inhuman, the three together, but still utterly different even in those aspects. While Harry2 and Marcia were warm, open, and friendly, this woman was cruel and malign. 

     He had to get away!   
  
  
  


     Francis sighed. His back was pressed against the wall as he sat on the cold stone floor. He watched Draco brew up a potion for something--the boy said he needed Severus help for it because Severus was his Potions teacher--but Francis could make a good guess as to what it was going to be for._ Hmm. That was some bloodworm, which is used to heighten potency of the potion when it is being stirred, and combined with that thistle root, it will last longer. However, it cancels out the acidity of the bat livers, so it can't be a potion for destroying parasite-based diseases in the bloodstream. _

     Francis loved to guess at things. That was half the fun, really. He searched for elusive answers as they fluttered about. He did so to satisfy an unexplainable curiosity that demanded he learn and discover the secrets of the world. It was not so much as--_steady scratching against the wall [fingernails, it seems], slightly above my head, I think there is whispering as well [deep male voice, slightly lispy]_--he was a genius, but he understood how all the little details built up to a larger, more complex picture. 

    For instance, it was well known that, in order for a person to use the Mirror of Rebounds, the user had to have Snape blood. Throughout the realities they jumped, the Snapes and the Malfoys had always intermingled often. The families intermarried, communicated, and shared property. These were the reflections from where the reality had once been one--_pattern is definitely human, although I'd say more curious than hostile and while Draco had said we were the only ones in Hogwarts; he also said he was expecting some spies to visit_--before splitting into two. 

     For reasons that Francis had not yet detected, although he had a sneaking suspicion Pandora herself had a lot to do with the way it happened, the Mirror of Rebounds and Pandora's Box reacted accordingly whenever either Severus or Harry touched either. It would not have done for Severus to use the Mirror of Rebounds to look for Harry if they were just going to end up jumping another reality. They had to stay in that one place just in case Harry came right behind them. 

     Draco had told them that Harry was fine and would come along right away, but though the woman and the other Harry were friendly, Francis had not quite figured out how Harry had gotten there to begin with. But Harry was safe, and that was good, although there was still--_just behind my wall, some tapping [dull sound so it can't be metal but instead wood-I'd say cherry or maple], I'll just scuttle off to the side here, no, it's worse, so I'll scuttle over here. There's no whispering here, but I don't trust the matter in the least_--the matter of how run-down and in such a bad shape this reality was. Francis knew he could not very well leave this reality without doing something to help. It did not seem right otherwise. 

     After all, what if someone had jumped through his reality and could have gotten rid of Voldemort, but never did? Francis' mother (bless her dear, dead heart) always told him to always take the opportunity to help someone, even if he had to go out of his way to help them. That way, she said that Good Karma would come into play, and when he needed help, then someone would go out of their way to help him. 

     Of course--_there's that whispering again, and some more steady scratching-_-he had not really expected Good Karma to come into play fifty years after the fact and drop him here, but then, who was he to complain about being alive? What he really wanted, though, was his wife and children back. 

     Francis sighed. He watched Severus and Draco toss a few more things into the cauldron. He absently fingered with the goggles perched on his head. He knew they made him look fairly ridiculous. Most of the children at Hogwarts had made fun of him, except Minerva and Pandora. They understood. Thinking about Pandora and remembering some of the things she used to do, Francis--_oh my, with that much powdered wormwood, a dragon would be knocked out . . . They must be creating an anesthetic_--felt a small wave of loneliness. They had a great deal of fun--_something heavy is being pressed against the wall [four pounds, light, rectangle, it sounds like], footsteps are retreating back, and two and two together makes four_--together. 

     "Duck," Francis said suddenly. Draco and Severus looked up from their cauldron in time to see Francis press both hands over his ears and bend forward. The wall to the side of him exploded and stones flew through the air. One smashed into the cauldron and knocked it over. The potion spilled across the floor. Dozens of dark shapes poured through the newly created hole in the wall into the room. 

     "Damn! How the hell did they get in here?" Draco bound over the spilt cauldron and drew his sword free at the same time. A crazed smile swept across his features as he plowed into the dark shapes, his sword flashing a silver arc. 

     Crimson liquid flew and screams wrenched from dying throats as he slid beside and around the invading persons. Francis pulled his newly acquired wand free and pointed it at one of the persons who slipped past Draco's abrupt onslaught. It was a woman whose brown hair stuck out in clumps. Her gaunt appearance lent to the air of sickness or otherwise ill health, but she showed an amazing speed as she lunged at Severus. 

     The look of surprise on her face was almost worth the attack as she flew through Severus and smacked into the wall on the other side. Francis steadied his wand. "_Stupefy._" The woman's body flopped loose and became still. Francis swung back to face the foray of surging bodies. Draco slipped back and forth through the ranks, thrusting and swinging his sword at anything that marginally moved. He snarled and cursed as he fought. While he moved fluidly, there was nothing graceful or fancy about his fighting skills. He killed and kept his attackers at bay with only sheer ferocity and viciousness. He chopped and slashed away in abandon; bodies fell around him and blood pooled upon the stones. 

     Francis wanted to cast a few more binding spells. There seemed to him to be an awful large amount of attackers, but Draco was here and there, and Francis could not very well cast a binding spell on _him._ Francis decided it was safer to get out of the way, and scooted backwards from the fighting. Severus, for the first few moments, did not seem to be paying attention to what was happening. He glowered at the cauldron and its spilt contents before picking up the cauldron. 

     As he turned around to face the fight, Francis felt a shiver ripple down the length of his spinal column. In all honesty, he himself found Severus to be intimidating when the ghost was in a very black mood. He found he had to agree with Severus when the ghost said he had difficulty reconciling with the idea of springing from the loins of Quaffing Quigley. That was like saying something about how the cute, fuzzy kitten gave birth to the man-eating tiger. 

    Severus did not worry about Draco. Indeed, he hardly spared his distant cousin a look as he repeatedly clobbered attackers with his cauldron. "And that," the ghost grumbled as another person toppled over, unconscious but sure to come to with a raging migraine, "is why," wham, "I have always, "wham wham wham "hated," wham, "people who do not," wham wham, "appreciate the _finer_," wham, "points of Potions." Wham. 

     Draco ducked the swinging cauldron. It hit the person who tried to attack him from behind. Draco and Severus whirled around to face the few people still standing. Their attackers wore shabby black robes and most carried knives and wands, but the few remaining people stopped attacking. As if realizing how deadly it would be to attack the two terrors of Hogwarts, the people slowly began to back away. Draco growled. The hand that clutched his sword trembled as he stepped forward. 

     A voice rose from the other depths of the Hogwarts ruins. "Back! Back! The Queen calls a retreat!" Draco snarled at the voice and leapt forward, sword poised to slice. The people scattered before him, out into the hallway and beyond. A shriek shot through the darkness as some misshapen soul stumbled into one of the many devious and permanently disabling traps Draco had set throughout the ruins of Hogwarts. 

     Severus huffed as he tossed the cauldron off to the side. He stared at Francis, who was seated against the wall on the other side of the room, his face open and wondering at the matter. "Well?" Severus asked as he crossed his arms before himself. "Have you anything to say about the blood bath that just took place?" 

     Francis looked around the room. Blood bath was an interesting choice of words. He supposed he should feel sick at so many bodies or slashed-free body parts scattered across the floor, or the fact that blood had splattered everywhere at Draco's attack and now dripped steadily down the wall to pool on the floor. Even as a tiny part of Francis cringed and retched at the sight, the majority of him felt numb towards or detached from the entire mess. The truth of the matter was it made no difference to Francis who these people were. Undoubtedly they were not apart of his reality, and Draco himself said that those who attacked Hogwarts did so at the bidding of "that fucking Snake Bitch Nagini" were driven insane from her mere presence. For all intents and purposes, they were most likely better off alive than dead, and Draco had probably just done them all a big favor. 

     Francis looked back at Severus, who was waiting for an answer. "You swing a mean cauldron," he said finally. "I'm glad you're on my side."   
  
  
  


     Harry sighed a breath of relief as he saw the tall woman depart from the cavern-like room through a small door at the far side she had to stoop to get through. Candles with dark flames surrounded him everywhere while, drifting from the spout of an incense burner, a green smoke hazed overhead, barely visible in the dim light. 

     He heard a sniffle and twisted his head to look at the pitiful lump of human being that had been following, like a lost dog, after the woman every time she moved. It quivered now as it crouched on the floor. Try as Harry might, he still could not understand who it was. He had an eerie feeling about the person and hardly liked it. 

     The person sniffed loudly and slowly crawled over to the slab of stone Harry's nude body was secured to. One hand, bent and twisted from constant spasms of pain, tentatively reached out to brush against Harry's forearm. "Hawwrary?" The voice was rusty and abused, perhaps from lack of use or from screaming too much. The hand patted him in what could have been mistaken as a show of comfort. "Hawwary?" The person sobbed. With jerking movement, the person clumsily slid an arm over Harry's torso to hug him. "Hawwry! M-my Hawwry!" 


	13. Chapter 13

     Harry2 sat at the kitchen island with his Charms homework spread out before him. The hand where Ember Death rested ached dully, but he was used to it. Ember Death used to be white on his skin, stark and burning at impossible temperatures that only his fire demon body could withstand before it finally cooled down and he could revert to his human form. That had been amusing, flitting around Hogwarts with scarlet runes of flames imbedded in his skin with his eyes burning and his hair little more than living fire that danced upon his scalp. Harry2 rather enjoyed the look on Draco's face when he first appeared, to say nothing of how Professor Snape stayed as far back from Harry2 as he could possibly get away with while teaching Potions. 

     Harry2 paused in his homework to grin at that thought. Hermione had rather liked him near; she usually kept the cauldron perched on his head because he could control his body temperatures to a certain degree (literally and figuratively). Harry2's grin disappeared into a frown. Of course, Fred and George, with their roasting sticks and packages of marshmallows and desire to use the immense heat emanating from his fire demon's body, took matters a little too far . . . 

     With a resigned sigh, Harry2 went back to doing his Charms homework. In the background, he could hear Marcia singing an off-tune bawdy song as she splashed about in the bathtub (no doubt playing with the Rubber Ducky set Dumbledore gave her for Christmas two years ago). Harry2 dipped his quill into the inkwell before writing his Charms paper for Professor Flitwick. After a moment of writing, he opened his Charms book and sifted through it quickly for a reference. As he went back to writing his paper, there was a gigantic splash and Marcia's singing ended in an abrupt, outraged scream. 

     "THERE'S A NAKED MAN IN MY BATHTUB!" 

     Harry2 jumped in surprise, more from what Marcia had proclaimed to the entire house rather than the volume. He quickly stood up and took two steps to the direction of the scream before he heard his mom laugh. 

     "All _right!_ My very own boytoy!" 

     At the sound of that, Harry2 instantly retracted back to the table to grab his school supplies and retreated from the premises as there was a loud crash from the sound of the bathroom and Marcia's laughter. He sat down on the doorstop away and settled down to finish his homework away from the noise.   
  
  
  


     "M-my Hawwry!" Harry shuddered as the hands continued to pet, hug, and otherwise touch him with a mixture of love and disbelief. "No' dead!" The person laughed joyfully and patted Harry's face. "M-my Hawwry ish n-no' dead!" 

     Harry did not know whether to laugh or to cry at the person's clumsy display of overjoyed affection and wonder. "I'm going to be very soon though," he grumbled finally as he decided to opt for a nasty mood. The person flinched at the tone and Harry nearly apologized. 

     Nearly. "That woman is going to make me a vessel so Voldemort has something to come back to. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't believe there is enough room in my body for two of us so one of us will have to go--most likely, me. I don't know where I'll go though, so I might wind up being dead." He sighed and relaxed suddenly. The tension in his body floated away with the haze the numerous candles created. "I want to get out of here," he whispered softly as he yanked uselessly at the bonds around his wrists. 

     The person sniffled and patted Harry's arm. "I's get you ou'," the person said. The person tugged continuously against Harry's bonds, all the while crooning like a small toddler who was trying not to forget what his mother had just told him. "I's get you ou'. I's a g-good boy." Harry watched as twisted fingers jerked and tugged at the shackles that held his hands and feet securely to the cold slab of stone. Well, that solved what gender the person was. Harry still had the sneaking suspicion that he did not want to know who the person was, but he knew he would learn if he ever got away. 

    _ When _he got away. Harry had to keep an optimistic view here; otherwise he would be too depressed to try running away. 

     "I's get y-you ou'." The fingers tugged at one of the shackles and they opened beneath his insistent fingers. "S-see?" Harry could not help but pat the pathetic little man on the head with his free hand for the show of delightfulness gained from succeeding. When that was done, he quailed the urge to rub his hand across his bare leg to clean it, and then began to work on the other. 

     A large shadow loomed above them. Harry froze. The pathetic little man squeaked and stumbled backwards. He hastily crawled over to the green woman's legs and hugged them. "Are you a bad boy?" she asked gently with a pat on the head. The pathetic little man nodded once and whimpered. "Well, I did not sssay you ssshouldn't releassse him, ssso it wasss my fault, I imagine," she said. The man pressed one finger uncertainly to what Harry supposed was his upper lip. Harry wanted to scream and run as far away from the woman as he possibly could or, if that was not successful, give himself a heart attack and die on the spot. He did not like her. She felt wrong, like a person who was dying from cancer felt wrong. 

     "And asss for you . . ." The woman, very gently, wrapped her gigantic fingers around Harry's arm and drew it back to the spot it had been shackled. Ignoring the searing of flesh inflicted upon her from touching Harry's skin, she swiftly secured his hand and then gave his cheek an affectionate pat. "I would be most disssappointed if you ran away," she said lightly. She frowned down at the pathetic little man who still hugged himself against her legs. The man flinched violently, and whimpered again as he wrapped his arms around her legs. "You sssee," the woman turned back to Harry and smiled as she crossed her huge arms before herself, "you are our guessst of honor! We cannot bring back the Massster if you are not here!" 

     She smiled. Had she been anyone else, with normal peach-colored skin and hair and non-snake-like eyes, she might have seemed to innocent. Yet the inhuman qualities she possessed gave Harry the impression she was something akin to a smiling insane homicidal maniac who playfully hid a very sharp axe behind her back. "Sssoon," she promised as she stepped away. 

     The pathetic little man whimpered as she once again left the room, and then threw himself across Harry's body as he frantically scrambled to undo the shackles. "Gotta getcha ou'!" he sobbed as he touched one of the shackles. A spark of lightening leapt off the shackle and slammed against the man's flesh. The man howled and fell backwards. He scrambled away from Harry and sucked on the blackened area thoughtfully. "Gotta getcha ou'," he said again. He moved close to Harry again and tentatively touched one of the shackles around Harry's left foot. That zapped him too. 

     "Why can't we use magic?" Harry finally asked. 

     The man was still for a moment before he went into a fit of violent shaking. "N-n-n-n-n-n-nooooo!" 

    Harry ignored him. He twisted his head to look at the shackles around his wrist. He knew it was possible to do magic without a wand, as there were several times in his youth where he was able to perform some magic without knowing he did. His hair, the glass window at the zoo just before he turned eleven, blowing up Aunt Marge . . . He stared at the shackles and concentrated fiercely. Uncle Severus would have been proud of him. 

    "_Aloha_--" BZZAAAAPPPP!! 

     Harry's body bucked beneath the huge shock and pain triggered by the heavy flow of blue lightening that sizzled from one end of his body to the other. Muscles contracted and spasms wracked his body. Each nerve came alive to acknowledge the endless sweep of red-hot agony. Time was stretched into forever in that moment. That crushing pressure when he had been trapped between two realities was only a pinprick compared to this impaling. 

     "Nah, ah, ah!" The woman's voice drifted through the air. "I sssaid I would be disssappointed if you tried to essscape, and sssince you decided you would rather not lisssten to me, you ssshall be punissshed." 

     His chest constricted and refused to expand. Harry fought against the wave of blackness that threatened to overwhelm him from the lack of oxygen. He felt his heart give one final thud before quitting. Arched against his constraints, his body reacting to the onslaught of pain by trying to escape it, the only things that seemed to move were his fingers. They clenched and unclenched, shook with painful tremors, and gripped the edges of the stone slab until bone showed through the shockingly pale skin. 

     Harry stared into the endless darkness above him. _Take me,_ he thought desperately to it. _Take me now! From here, away, please!_

     Even as he desperately sought to flee the torrent of pain, even as his vision swam and multi-colored spots danced in his vision, even as his body jerked from both the pain and dire need for air, he felt his conscience firmly anchored to his body. He clawed frantically to break free of the anchor, hoping against hope that he could perhaps reach Harry2, or even the dark man whose power was beyond anything he knew. 

     In his swimming vision, he beheld a soggy vision of the Bloody Baron and Cousin Quigley. White mist flowed about the two figures. It obscured and distorted certain features. Overlaying them was a pair of masculine hands that hovered over and caressed the scene. It distantly reminded Harry of how Professor Trelawney waved her hands over her crystal ball. 

     Harry watched with detached interest as Cousin Quigley straightened four ribbons. He twined them through his fingers before he pulled them taut between his hands and held them out to the Bloody Baron. The Bloody Baron studied the ribbons for a moment, and then stepped back. His sword appeared in his hands. Cousin Quigley visibly gulped and screwed his eyes shut. His hands shook slightly from fear. The Bloody Baron snorted and slashed downward with his sword. He sliced directly through the four ribbons, and the hands that overlaid the scene froze. The fingers flared wide and then the hands moved to blot the vision out. 

     Strength flowed suddenly through Harry's limbs. He heaved against his bonds and, one by one, they shattered. The flowing electricity stopped as Harry toppled off the stone slab. He knocked over more than a dozen candles. Molten wax splattered on his super-sensitive skin. As he hit the cold floor, Harry managed to tuck and roll. When he came to a halt, his body shuddered with the after-tremors of pain. He barely had time to register what he had just done when the pathetic little man descended upon him. 

     "Go!" the man cried as he tugged at one of Harry's limp arms. His voice seemed to have lost a little of the simple tone from earlier. "Go n-now!" He pulled Harry to his feet and they stumbled together to another part of the cavern, away from the door that the woman had exited through both times. Harry's head rolled lethargically about as he struggled to gain his footing. His muscles refused to obey him. His harsh breaths, small groans of pain, pounding heart, and footsteps, were all that he could hear above high-pitched ringing that filled his ears. He clutched at the man's shoulder and whimpered. 

     A dull roar filled the otherwise silent exterior. The man Harry leaned against whimpered and quickened his pace. Harry squinted into the darkness. At least he had his glasses, which he supposed it was something to be grateful about since they were not broken. He could see the outline of the wall of the cavern room looming ahead. The lines and seams where ceiling met wall met floor stood out with a slightly darker color. 

     The roar grew greater as they stumbled to a corner. "C-careful," the man said as he wrapped his arms firmly around Harry's waist. The man stomped his foot twice on the floor. The floor beneath them gave way. Harry squeaked and seized the man's arms as they fell downward. 

     They hit moving water feet first, and plunged beneath it before bobbing to the surface. Too surprise to even breath when he was submerged, Harry drew in a painful breath. 

     That was when the surrounding stench hit Harry, much like Severus the ghost's cauldron had over the heads of the attackers at Hogwarts.   
  
  
  


     Francis watched as Severus tossed the bodies and the individual body parts Draco had hacked off in his battle frenzy out the window at the far side to the lake below. They both chose to ignore the scream of those persons whom Severus had conked over the head with his cauldron as they awoke to find themselves a surprise dinner to the giant squid that still lived in the lake. During the entire time, Severus muttered something about how he knew _this _student would never have amounted to much; he could hardly expect more from _this _student after he blew up his cauldron in his seventh year; _this _student definitely possessed a poor enough taste to join the dark side; _this _student was always a bit pathetic anyway; and dear God, _this _kid's mother had been a student whom he had ardently hoped would get her tubes tied to prevent breeding! 

     Francis said nothing as he turned his eyes from the blood-drenched area of the room to the wall on the other side where the woman he had stunned lay on her side. She had come to a few moments before the retreat was called, but Francis froze her with a handy little spell that he knew would keep her still for a long while, yet not cause any long-term damage. Not that he was sure it would do any of them any good once Severus finally noticed her. She watched all that took place with wide, round eyes. Francis himself was unsure of what was going on. He decided it was best to ask Draco what he thought happened. It was obvious that it had been a surprise attack, one that Draco was currently winning. 

     As if to add emphasis to his thoughts, there was a gigantic boom from another part of the castle where another of Draco's many traps was sprung by some misshapen attacker or rat. But why was there a retreat called? It seemed to Francis that, if this Queen Snake Bitch was truly as horrible and ruthless as Draco claimed, then she would not have called a retreat merely because of two people (well, one person and a ghost) were retaliating what Francis had thought to be rather magnificently so. 

     And that was all and well, but perhaps this may have had something to do with Harry, as Francis was sure, since everything had something to do with Harry. Still, Francis did feel that something was very, very wrong even if Harry was not back yet, and he said so to Severus. 

     "This entire place is wrong," Severus replied as he gathered together the potion ingredients that had been scattered in the fight. "There isn't a single thing that is right. Too many things have been changed, and the time jump from this reality and the last reality is off, so something happened in our jump to have knocked us off the path." 

     Francis had thought of that as well, when they first met Draco and he had tried to think of a reasonable explanation as to why Harry had not followed them through the Mirror of Rebounds. Though the place felt wrong, Francis believed they were still on the right track. The Mirror of Rebounds seemed to have a mind of its own (or at least something with a mind was controlling it to the point of leading the others where that mind wanted them to go, whom Francis supposed was Pandora), and if they were here, then he supposed this was where they were supposed to be. 

     Francis again looked over to the spot where the woman still was. Severus did not seem to notice her, and he wondered if he should speak up. If he mentioned it, then Severus would probably fling her out the window as well. As Francis contemplated the matter, Draco, huffing, puffing and drenched in blood and sweat, entered the room through the new hole in the wall. 

     "They have never attacked here before Voldemort died," Draco snarled. "If it weren't for the fact they've always bitten their tongue off and bled to death before I could get information from them, I'd have known why the Bitch Queen's people attacked us." 

     Francis looked across the room at the woman again. Her body was as stiff as a board and he knew_ she _was incapable of biting her tongue off. "Maybe you can get her to talk," he said as he pointed at her. Severus and Draco frowned at the sight of her. 

     "No good," Draco said finally. "The only way we'll get her to talk once that spell wears off is if one of us casts the Imperius Curse and, well, let's just say I have no desire to stoop to their level." He glared daggers at the woman. "Just kill her," he said finally as he began to slide his sword out of his scabbard. 

     "Wait." Severus floated towards the woman, picked her stiff body up, and leaned her against the wall. "I think . . ." He studied her for a long moment as he stood directly in her line of vision. His overpowering presence clearly intimidated the woman. Sweat began to bead at the line of her forehead. 

     Severus the Ghost became, once more, the Potions Master of Hogwarts Dungeons and the Bane of Existence To All Longbottom-like Persons Everywhere. "Yyyeeeeesss." He drew the word out slowly as his eyes narrowed and his head bent forward. Even with his errant curls and the fact that he was currently transparent, Professor Snape still managed to convey the sense that he was superior to this genetic accident of a miscreant. "Alice Kuderoy, Ravenclaw, left in 1989." He tilted his head to the side as he regarded her closely. "Blew up her cauldron as she tried to create a simple laughing draught in her first year, poisoned half her class in the second year, caught shagging the Head Boy in her fourth on_ my desk,_ and was finally expelled in her sixth year for cheating. One of the Sorting Hat's many jokes, I am sure." He waved his hand at Francis and Draco without looking away. "Leave her to me," he said ominously as he folded his hands behind his back. The woman's eyes grew fractionally wider as Francis and Draco swiftly retreated through the hole in the wall. 

     "You know," said Francis casually, "I am very glad I never had him for_ my _Potions instructor." 

     "Well," said Draco just as casually, "it's not so bad if you were a Slytherin. Since he was our Head of House, he generally overlooked many of our, ah, transgressions." 

     Francis' brain automatically translated that to _spoiling the kids utterly and completely rotten. _They leaned against the wall beside the hole. Not a sound was heard from the room they had vacated at Severus' request, and silence seemed to loom above them like a lurking beast. 

     "Sooooo . . ." Francis sought to find something to discuss. _What's the weather like? _was a rather unsuitable topic. "How did you and Harry, uh, um . . . When did you and Harry first start getting along?" he asked finally after stumbling over his words and memories of one certain reality where Draco Malfoy had been carrying on a duo fling with both Harry Potter and Severus Snape. 

     Draco looked at Francis with amusement apparent in his eyes. "It all happened in our seventh year here at Hogwarts," he said finally with a wide flourish of his hands. "We ran into each other in Potions, spilled each other's cauldrons all over each other, looked into one another's eyes, and knew, at that moment, we were made for each other." Francis stared in disbelief. "Of course," Draco added offhandedly, "if we hadn't been brewing love potions on account of it being the day before Valentine's Day, there might have been a different story altogether." 

     A scream came from the room. Francis flinched, but Draco did not even blink. After another moment of silence, Francis nervously cleared his throat and turned back to Draco. "So that was all?" he asked. "A simple love potion?" 

     Draco shrugged. "Professor Dumbledore decided it was the perfect occasion for the two of us to get to know one another. Personally, I thought he saw it as a chance that maybe we might learn to get along." He frowned. "Of course, that was before we learned of the betting pool going on with the teachers." 

     "What sort of betting pool?" 

     "They were taking bets on when we'd actually do it." 

     "Do what?" 

     "_It._" Draco looked pointedly at Francis. 

     Francis had an embarrassing flashback of multiple realities and all the rooms he, Severus, and Harry made the mistake of entering without knocking. There were several times when he remembered How Mother Knew Best, and Manners Could Save Your Life. He rolled his eyes upward. Somewhere, in some reality, he was sure his mother was laughing at him. Yes, he could imagine the old bat rocking in her chair, laughing herself sick over the messes Francis always seemed to get into. Aware of how much Harry possessed the Potter features, Francis glanced uneasily at Draco out of the corner of his eye, and carefully edged away from him. 

     "A knut for your thoughts," Draco said when he noticed how warily Francis moved away from him. 

     "It sounds too easy," Francis said suddenly. 

     "Hmmm?" 

     "Your getting along. It sounds too easy. From what Harry told me, you two hated each other. And along comes a simple love potion and you two fall for each other?" It sounded too much like Snapes' and Harry's relationship in about three or four of the realities they had skipped through earlier. "And Severus does not seem to be the sort of person to have a class of teenagers make love potions. That's a recipe for disaster!" 

     Draco blinked. "Well, I did try to poison Harry the first day, and he tried to push me off my broom the second, and the week following that we were both in denial, and the week following that, we were siccing each other's friends on one another, and then Dumbledore locked us together in a closet until we managed to find one nice thing to honestly say about each other, and then another week of denial passed before we were locked in the closet again to honestly say a dozen nice things about one another. And then we were chained together in Transfigurations and the only way the chains would fall off is if we managed to work together as a team, and as soon as they did fall off we attacked each other and I managed to sock Harry one when McGonagall tried to pull us apart and in the scuffle we somehow managed to tear her skirt off so the entire class saw her in her very outdated knickers." Draco took a deep breath. "From there, we worked together to avoid her the best we could, and that was when we started to get along." 

     Draco fell silent then, which was just as well because Francis remembered a time when he saw Minerva McGonagall in her knickers and not much else, and it had been when he Transfigured the door to the girls' shower room into a feather to prove that he could, and _that_ had been when Minerva was getting ready to take a shower. 

     She had not been a very happy person. Neither, for that matter, was Pandora when she learned. Francis had a rather vague recollection of her crying about how he had cheated on her and they hadn't even gotten married yet. It earned him visits from both Cousin Quigley (who cried at having to bother Francis) and the Bloody Baron (who threatened him with all sorts of bodily harm in one moment, and laughed in the next moment at the idea of Minerva McGonagall being caught, quite literally, with her trousers down). 

     It was at that moment, which Francis was quite grateful for, that Severus drifted through the wall. "I have found what I wanted to know," he said smoothly as he refrained from saying anything about how quickly both Francis and Draco backed away from him. "The idiot in the other room--or rather, the idiot who was formally in the room but is now swimming with the squid--attacked Hogwarts with the others because Nagini, also known as the Queen Snake Bitch, decided that it was time to finally squash the pestering little rebels that annoyed her. The reason why she called them back was because the Bitch sent out commands along the mental link everyone shared with her. Most of the people lost it in the heated frenzy of the battle, but due to our lovely Miss Alice not being caught in that, she heard the command loud and clear. The Queen wanted everyone to be gathered close for a ceremony to bring Voldemort back. Apparently she has found a suitable host." 

     Color drained from Draco's face. "She found a suitable host for Voldemort? We can't let him come back." He whirled around on his heel. "We have to stop her!" 

     Francis and Severus hurried to catch up with Draco as he stormed through the castle corridors. "I'll outfit you two," Draco said over his shoulder, "so you can fight with me. We'll get Black and Lupin together to help us, and if we launch a surprise attack, we should be able to distract the Snake Bitch long enough to either kill or run off with the host." 

     "Um, isn't that like a suicidal mission?" Francis asked. Draco stopped and turned around to face Francis so quickly that Francis nearly ran into him and Severus floated through both, sending waves of chill through their bodies. 

     "Well, you're supposed to be dead," Draco said evenly. "And Professor Snape here _is _dead. I hardly see the difference it makes. Besides, everyone knows that the heroes always come out alive in the end of suicidal missions." He placed his hands on his hips and grinned widely. 

     "They do?" 

     "Of course. It's all apart of being a hero, especially a redeemed evil guy like me." Draco turned and sped down the hallway again. "Watch the trap!" he yelled as he pointed at a flagstone and leapt over it. 

     "Actually, I always thought that concept to be a bit more along the line of cheesy," Francis grumbled as he hurried after Draco. He made sure that he avoided the trap Draco warned against. 

     "You mean our entire adventure_ isn't_ cheesy?" Severus dryly asked behind him. "It fits well with the pattern of our life." 

     "And what, pray tell, is that pattern?" 

     "Someone High Up is mucking about with our lives and laughing the entire time." 

     "Ah."   
  
  
  


     The Bloody Baron cocked his head to the side. "That sounds about right," he said. 

     Cousin Quigley stared mournfully at the vinegar drink the Bloody Baron had mixed for him so he could be weaned from alcohol. "What does?" he asked as he cautiously poured the drink out behind him when the Bloody Baron was not looking. "Mucking about with their lives or laughing at them?" 

     "You do all the muck-ups." 

     "And you're the one who laughs." 

     They stared at one another before looking away. "You know, that son of yours is uncanny when it comers to figuring that kind of stuff out," the Bloody Baron said bemusedly. 

     Cousin Quigley shrugged and gave a forlorn sigh. "He takes after his mother in that aspect." 

     "Before or after she ran off with that Muggle neighbor's scalp?" 

     Cousin Quigley choked. "White Rabbit did _what?_" 

     "Oh, that's right. We never did mean tell you of that."   
  
  
  


     Harry2 had made a great deal of progress in his Potions homework. He had moved from drawing inane, sloppy little doodles of Professor Snape dying very bloody deaths at the hands of a few of his violent and animalistic relatives (at least, the ones who were very violent and more animalistic than the majority since the family was, of course, made up of demons and druids and miscellaneous unmentionables), before he moved on to actually reading his assignment. To be honest, he only did so because he ran out of red ink. 

     He jumped in surprise as the kitchen door behind him swung open and Marcia stepped up beside him. She wore her faded pink bathrobe wrapped close around her diminutive body and held a Dore carefully in one hand. "You know," she said as she held the Dore out to Harry2, "it just occurred to me that it might not be an entirely good thing that a naked Remus Lupin fell into my bath when he stepped on the tuned Dore I gave Harry." 

     She looked worried, though hardly sheepish. Any other mother informing her son of the impromptu naked man who appeared in her bath would have been embarrassed, especially of said mother took great liberties with said man, but not Marcia. She did not know the meaning of embarrassment any more than she knew the meanings of tactfulness, discretion, diplomacy, prudence, or subtlety. 

     And she may have wondered why Harry had so readily gotten her a dictionary for her birthday. 

     "That is to say, I don't mind that a naked Remus Lupin fell into my bath, but if Harry dropped the Dore, then it's not a good thing because that means he would have had to lose it through sheer clumsiness or an accident or some unforeseen mishap. Frankly, I'm worried at any rate, and I know you can take care of yourself, so you go ahead and look for him. I fully expect you to help him if you need to. And as for me . . ." Marcia grinned and turned around to walk through the kitchen door as she eagerly rubbed her hands together. ". . . I have a werewolf to finish ravaging." 

     "Mo-om! . . ." Harry2 looked at the Dore he held. "Don't you mean ravishing?" 

     "There is that too." 

     Harry2 smacked his forehead and silently cursed she-demon hormones. He set his homework off to the side and stood up. Ember Death blinked at him thoughtfully as he twirled the Dore through his fingers. He stepped back into the kitchen where there would not be the chance of a Muggle accidentally seeing him use the Dore. He tossed it at the base of the wall and watched the Dore break apart like shattered jello. Each droplet spread outward and flowed up in a wide sweep to create a door with a rounded top. He knew that Marcia got the Dores from her adopted mother, but he was not sure of what sort of magic created them. The realm his family mostly dwelled in possessed magic that was neither light nor dark, nor could not be explained to anyone in the wizarding world. Harry2 had a sneaking suspicion that his reality's Voldemort had found some of the magic somehow. He could find no other explanation why Voldemort had a power that was not only foreign, but also immensely stronger than what was found in the wizarding world. 

     Each reality was different because of something or someone. In Harry2's reality, there was a rampage of demons, which was one of the reasons why Marcia settled in it instead of just staying with Harry2 at the Frozen Hales with her family. 

     Well, that and yes, Dumbledore, I'll bring him back to Hogwarts to go to school because, well, it's apart of his heritage and who am I to argue with heritage--oh, you be quiet, you ugly grease ball, you. You're in no need to make fun of me when I'm the only reason you aren't dropping twenty stories on your head, and if you don't stop making fun of my small stature, I'm going to feed you to my Aunt Elizabeth's mutated cabbages, and I do mean that, and no, Dumbledore sir, I do promise to raise little Harry to respect the adults. You sure I can't drop Professor Snape here? A bump on the head might do him some good. 

     Harry2 stepped through the Dore to the reality beyond.   
  
  
  


     Francis, weighed down by enough weapons that he was sure he would trip and do himself very serious injury, hurried to keep up with the fleeting form ahead of him. Draco zipped through the forest silently, moving over rocks, fallen trees, limbs, and roots effortlessly. He glided as smoothly and as gracefully as Harry flew on his broom. His sword was withdrawn and tucked under the other arm with the cutting side pointed downward, a steady stream of silver that flowed behind his ghostly passing. 

     And speaking of ghosts . . . 

     "Well, misery loves company, and you have to admit, we are quite a miserable lot," Cousin Quigley said cheerfully as he floated behind Severus, who trailed behind Francis and steadied the man's balance each time he tripped. The Bloody Baron said nothing as he brought up the rear. He merely glowered at both Cousin Quigley and Francis as he continuously ran his finger along the line of his blade. 

     Francis did not know if he was chasing after Draco or running from the Bloody Baron. Either way, he wished Pandora was here to protect him or, at the very least, play peacemaker. Between Severus who snarled at Cousin Quigley ("We're going to have a _long _discussion when this is all finished, _Father_."), who burst into tears ("I tried to be a good father! Honestly! *_sobsobsnifflesob_*"), Francis was beginning to feel suicidal to the point where he tempted to deliberately fall on the Bloody Baron's sword. 

     Draco stopped suddenly up ahead just as Francis tripped and barely escaped skewering himself on what Draco had called a dagger and_ he _called a bloody gigantic broadsword that only Attila the Hun was probably strong enough to swing. Rather than climbing to his feet, Francis slithered on his stomach over to where Draco knelt at the edge of a steep slope and overlooked a small ghetto. As soon as he reached Draco, a wind stirred and blew a ghastly stench into their faces. 

     Francis gagged and turned green as Draco, apparently unaffected by the stench, pointed at a place in the ghetto where a pipe large enough for a grown man to stand upright in spewed forth water that looked slimy even in the full moon's bright light. "That," Draco whispered, "is the sewer pipe to the Snake Bitch's fortress. That's what Black uses to sneak in and out of on his spy missions. We'll use it to enter her fortress, and if we're really desperate, we'll use it as an escape route." 

     There was a moment of silence as everyone absorbed this information (or, in Francis' case, tried very hard not to violently lose his dinner). It was the Bloody Baron who spoke, and no one missed the Slytherin Sarcasm, except Francis, who was still trying not to be ill. 

     "You use that to sneak into the fortress with, and all you'll have to do is stand upwind of everyone long enough for them to pass out from the stench before you can grab the host." 

     Or perhaps it was not sarcasm. Cousin Quigley himself was looking quite ill, and everyone believed him to have the strongest stomach of all from his years and years of drinking. 

     "Shall we go?" Draco asked as he pressed himself close to the ground. "I'm worried that Lupin didn't answer to the horn when I blew it, so we should move in and out as quick as possible. You all know the plan. Follow my lead until we hit the area where the ceremony is going to be held, then I and the ghosts will distract everyone while Francis grabs the host, we'll all make a wild getaway, and from there, we'll react come what may." 

     Francis stopped gulping as he finished recovering from his bout of sickness to reply to Draco. "You do realize of course that the chance of our succeeding with such a risky mission and a sketchy plan is, of course, very provable to being equal to that of, say, a bottle of gin surviving one of Cousin Quigley's drinking binges--no offense, Cousin Quigley," Francis hastened to add as the ancestor squawked in protest. 

     "_Now _I'm worried," Severus muttered darkly. 

     "We're heroes, so there is nothing to worry about," Draco said blithely as he slipped forward on his stomach and slid down the slope. 

     "That's what I told Pandora the day I set my father's fighter plane's rotary blades in my workshop sort of as a souvenir and she expressed worry about the children playing with it. 'It won't hurt anyone,' I said, and a decade later, it's the very thing that nearly cuts me in half!" Everyone ignored Francis' quiet grumbling as they snuck over to the pipe. Draco leaned against the sharply angled precipice beside the large pipe and quickly looked about for anything that might have spotted them, or may in the very near future. Francis pressed one hand over his nose and he breathed through his mouth to cut down the amount of heavy stench in the air. 

     He watched the slimy water pour from the pipe's mouth into the slimy-looking lake of rather icky water. Francis knew he was going to have nightmares about this adventure in the years to come. 

     Draco leaned towards the pipe and reached out to grab the edge of it before he froze. Slowly, suspiciously, he backed away from the pipe. The three ghosts and Francis looked at him oddly. "Something is coming," he said. All five of them backed slowly away from the pipe and hid in the bushes. A few moments passed, and then a dull roar filled the air. Rushing water was heard and the sound of something heavy sliding against wet metal. Out of the pipe slid two large objects. They hit the slimy lake with a giant splash, went under, and then bobbed to the surface. The smaller object sputtered and gasped for air as the larger one patted it and said, "S'okay. Ever'thin's okay." 

     "That's Harry!" Severus the ghost exclaimed loudly as the same time as Draco moved forward and said, "That's Black!" 

     Severus looked at Draco. "Black who?" 

     Draco watched the two persons make their way out of the water. His eyes were wide and bright. "Harry?" he asked softly, ignoring Severus' question. He took one hesitant step forward. "Harry?" He pointed at one of the figures and turned to a very nervous-looking Cousin Quigley. "Is that Harry Potter?" 

     "Um." Cousin Quigley did not answer. His eyes darted around the area wildly, as if something very big was coming and he was not sure how to handle it. Draco noticed, but did not care. He slowly walked over to the persons. The one dressed in rags he ignored. A small part of his brain acknowledged that the person who looked like Harry and even sounded like him to a certain degree was not wearing any clothes. It did not seem to matter to him, since the person who stood dripping wet before him was the person who had captivated his sense of awe, admiration, and loyalty through simply being the person he was. How different could this Harry be from his Harry? Aside from the fact one was dead and the other was not, of course. 

     Harry straightened upright before the blurry figure before him as the person in rags pulled him out of the water. His glasses were missing and he blinked a few times to focus his eyes at the person; he was not sure if the person was threatening or not, but he heard Francis in the background, speaking rapidly to Severus on something about how something was going to happen. Harry opened his mouth to say that the strange woman with green skin and no hair was coming. He felt it as surely as he felt his scar burning. 

     And that was when Harry found himself fiercely hugged by the person standing in front of him. "Oh Harry!" breathed the male voice. The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood on end. He_ knew _that voice and he knew where this sort of hugging led--last time resulted in a very unexpected near-loss of his virginity in the men's bathroom. "I missed you so much!" Harry blinked his eyes as he tried to gather together shards of his whirling thoughts. The arms that held him tight tensed suddenly and Harry was hastily shoved away. He stumbled and nearly lost his balance. 

     "Err, maybe not that much." Draco covered his nose. "You smell!" 

    "Oh great!" Harry rubbed his eyes and squinted at the person. "Let me guess, we're lovers in this reality." 

     "You make it sound like it's a bad thing!" 

     "Umm." Harry heard Francis speak as he approached. "I hate to break up this lovely little reunion, but something really big is coming, and when I say big, I mean really,_ really _big." 

    "It's that woman," Harry muttered. He shivered and wrapped his arms around his naked body. He felt very vulnerable at that moment. He was wide and open to whatever horrors were capable of doing him harm. He wished fervently for his glasses, because at least then he could see what was going on. He threw his senses outward and tried to feel if the woman was around. He saw the blurry shape that was Draco suddenly wheel around and face a direction. Silver flashed and metal rang against leather. 

     "I'm going to distract the Snake Bitch," Draco said coldly. "You guys get out of here." 

     "Is there any other known way to stop her?" Francis asked. 

     Harry glanced from blurry person to blurry person. "You all seem to be handling this well," he said. 

     "It's not as if we should rather be running around here like a chicken with its head cut off," said Francis evenly. There was a slight pause, and then Francis said, "Sorry. My mum's saying. She had a lot of them." 

     "Ah." Draco waved his hand. "Go on," he said again. "Get out of here. I'll fight her, and since I'm the hero, I'll get away." 

     "You are so mixed up," Francis muttered. 

     Draco looked at Francis. His expression was somber and subdued. This surprised Francis, because the older man had always accustomed this reality's Draco as being very passionate--(_Ack! Wrong choice of words! Bad mental image! Bad mental image!_)--as being very _avid _with his emotions. "Magic isn't going to work well with Nagini. She's much too powerful. For whatever reason, she seems almost impervious to anything we throw at her, which is one of the reasons why she's worse than Voldemort. The only one capable of fighting her physically is me. I know I'm not good, but I can put up a fight well enough to distract her from Harry. He's more important than me, and you have to get him out of here. It'll have to be me." He grinned suddenly, once more the expressive young man that Francis had come to know. "Besides that, since I'm sacrificing myself here, I'm bound to get out of this mess alive!" He looked across the distance. In the dark-gray of whirling storm clouds forming overhead, a massive chunk of darkness was hurtling towards them. Menace wrapped around the chunk of darkness as evil pulsated and anger rumbled. 

     Harry felt his great-grandfather circle a cautious arm around his shoulder. "Come on." He tugged and Harry fell into pace with him as they hurried away. 

     "Hawry?" 

    "You come along too," said Francis to the soggy little man wrapped in sludgy rags. 

    "That is Sirius Black?" Severus floated behind them. He pointedly stared at the soggy little man. "He's a whipped pup!" A sigh of regret came from him and his voice came in an unaccustomed pouting whine. "How come I wasn't around to see it happen?" 

     "Don' like you," decided the soggy little man as he pulled back one of the strips wrapped around his face. Whipped pup described the man that had once been known as Sirius Black, though the words, "a bewildered lost child who never knew what was going on in the first place" was a more apt description. Even as he glared at Severus, Sirius looked innocently perplexed in general, as if he possessed only a vague sense of who he was and little else. 

     Severus harrumphed and cast a nervous glance over his shoulder at Draco, who was hurrying forward with his sword held tightly in both hands. "Assuredly the feeling is quite mutual." 

     Harry clutched at Francis' robes. "What's going on?" he asked. "I can't see! . . . What--" Harry's hands blindly roamed where they should not. Francis squawked indignantly. 

     "Get your hands off that!" Francis frantically slapped away one of Harry's wandering hands as his voice soured several octaves higher than it normally would. In the distance, Draco whirled around. 

     "Harry! You stop trying to get yourself debauched! That's my job!" The ground beneath him bucked and heaved suddenly and he lost his balance. He nearly skewered himself on his sword as he fell over. 

     Harry ignored them all. "That is one bloody big knife you got there!" 

     Francis' face flushed red, but he assumed Harry was talking about the sword Draco had given him. It was safer that way. "Don't I know it? Watch your step here, we're going up a small hill to the woods beyond it and maybe, just maybe, we can hide in the trees--where are you going, Severus?" He stopped and looked over to the side where Severus was quickly flying away. 

     "To help Draco. The witless nimrod has been hanging around with Gryffindors too long to realize that discretion is the better part of valor and, damn it all, he's a Slytherin with Snape blood!" 

     Francis did not say anything. Sirius remained quiet. Harry still desperately wished to see what was going on. Beneath his bare feet he felt the ground quivering softly. A chill wind seemed to make the wet sheen of water covering his body from the dip in the slimy lake turn to ice. He shivered violently and wrapped his arms around himself. Francis, noticing then how Harry was stark naked, looked around for something to cover him up with. Harry's arms tightened around himself and he shivered harder as Francis let him go. Francis struggled out of the overcoat Draco forced him to wear over his rumpled robes. 

     As he got his arms tangled in the material, a gigantic boom behind them caused the world to rock precariously. His arms tangled and his feet never quite steady, Francis toppled over against Harry. Both of them together fell over on Sirius. Above the echoes of the boom, they heard a strangled war cry and the sound of metal hacking at flesh. Francis did not have to look around to know that Draco was attacking in wild abandon. 

     "I'd give him points for ferocity, but his execution, style, and defense leaves a great deal to be desired," said an exceedingly familiar voice in the tree branches above their heads. Francis jumped in surprise as a lithe, much more muscular Harry with a tattoo of a black dragon swirling along the length of his bare arm from wrist to shoulder jumped down to the ground. Sirius squinted at him, and then looked at the naked Harry who leaned against him. Francis peaked out from the folds of fabric he was entangled within. 

     "Harry2?" Harry asked as he blindly reached for the other Harry. Harry2 squeaked and jumped out of his reach. 

     "Watch where you put those hands of yours--where are your clothes?" 

     "Don't ask," Harry grumbled as Sirius sniffled and latched himself to Harry's arm. He looked at Harry2 with watery eyes. 

     "Ah." Amidst the sounds of Draco hacking at Nagini and Severus yelling at him to get out of this mess before he hauled him out of it by the seat of his shorts (to which Draco grinned at and said, "It's bum to the breeze, Professor! Wanna see?" and nearly got decapitated by the monstrously large sword Nagini wielded), Harry2 quickly searched his pockets. Francis quickly untangled himself from the overcoat and had Harry pull it on. 

     "Ah hah!" Harry2's hands emerged from one of his pockets with an eyeglass pouch as Francis buttoned the overcoat up. "Mom always makes me carry extra glasses in case I lose mine, but I think she wouldn't mind if I let you borrow these. Well, you did lose your glasses, and since you are me, then I would be using them since I lost them." He handed the glasses to Harry, who slipped them on. "And this." He handed Harry a wand. "The Bloody Baron gave this to me when I first came. He said it slipped loose when the reality walls slammed together." 

     Harry2 looked over his shoulder at the sound of Draco's battle. 

     The large green woman blocked Draco's two-handed swings with one arm, bloody from where his blade had sunk into her flesh. She swung a sword that was easily as large as the very wilted Sirius Black. Draco ducked beneath one of her swings and chopped at her exposed sword hand. The blade sliced through her bone. The woman screamed as her hand was severed free and flopped to the ground. It twitched and gripped the sword handle tighter. Draco dropped and rolled beneath her other arm as her fingernails suddenly expanded in size. 

     Overheard, a magical storm was brewing amongst the deep gray clouds Nagini had ridden upon. Flashes of purple and deep orange lightening bolts leapt from cloud to cloud and from cloud to ground in frightful swirls of overwhelming masses of power. Mutual scars ached and identical hands flew to identical spots on their foreheads. An arc of lightening zipped through the air to earth and crashed to a spot where Draco had been standing only moments before. A wind howled fiercely and tore through the forest. Dirt flung into eyes and trees bent half-over from the ferocity of the wailing breezes. 

     "I don't like the way this is happening," Francis yelled over the howling wind. He clamped one arm down over his head to keep his goggles from being whipped away. He pulled them down his face and secured them over his glasses. 

     "What does it mean?" Harry asked as Sirius whimpered and curled against his side. 

     "Energies are being disrupted." Francis ducked as a tree limb whizzed by his head. It smacked into Harry2's head and snapped into two upon impact. Harry2 rubbed his head with an annoyed look. "Magical energy of humongous levels is warring against immense natural energy, and their battling it out with natural elements. This normally doesn't happen unless the magical energy is trying to rip apart reality and bring in something that doesn't quite exist." 

     "Which means?" 

     "Well, we really should try to stop it." 

     "How?" 

     Francis shrugged. "We've got to get rid of the instigator, the one who's mastering the magical energy." 

     Harry2 pointed at Nagini as she slashed wildly at Draco with her nails. "She's the one," he said. "The power is flowing from her." 

     "Well," Harry grabbed his glasses before they were blown off his face, "can anyone do something?" He looked expectedly at Francis and Harry2. 

     Francis shook his head. "I've got it on good authority--well, sort of, since he appears to be trying to get himself killed--that Nagini is worse than Voldemort. Given that and the fact that Draco and Severus both seem to be having a problem fighting her, I really don't think we should get in their way." 

     "So, we just hide?" Harry asked dryly. "That's not very Gryffindor-ish of us. We do have to do something! Aren't there any spells?" 

     Francis shrugged. "Well, Severus is right: discretion is better part of valor, and there is a time and place for bravery." He pulled out his wand. "We could, of course, attack from behind, hope that Nagini does not duck so our spell instead gets Draco--who, by the way, seems to be the only one capable of handling her--and then flip a coin as to who's going to be foolish enough continuously strike at Nagini, since apparently she seems to be impervious to magic." 

     Harry2 sighed and rolled his eyes. "Given that plan, we'll all wind up dead and Mom will have a fit. Heck, she'd even come after me to give me a piece of her mind for dying on her!" 

     Francis shrugged. "Regardless, we need to do something." 

     "Fine then." Harry2 brushed past them. "Let me handle this," he said confidently. 

     They watched as Harry2 strode purposefully across the heaving terrain. As he stood within throwing distance of the now one-armed Nagini and Draco, he held the arm with the black dragon tattoo above his head. The other arm waved irritably at Severus the ghost, who stared incredulously at Harry2. 

     "Get him out of the way!" Harry2 yelled as he pointed at Draco. Red color flooded the dragon tattoo and turned the black twisting creature of graceful deadliness aglow like a living flame. Along the line of his arm, the dragon began to swivel from side to side. Heat waves danced around Harry2's form as Severus did exactly what he had threatened Draco he would do. 

     As Draco lifted his arms to stab his sword viciously at Nagini's remaining arm, Severus slipped a single ghostly arm down the back of Draco's open robes and yanked the young man backwards. Shock and tenseness that came from being suddenly touched by something frightfully cold swept across Draco's face in a grimace. 

     Nagini paused a moment in her swing to see what had happened to her walking piece of mince meat and saw Harry2 standing directly before her with his tattooed arm upraised and hand clenched in a fist. The heat waves that surrounded him darkened. The grass at his feet withered brown and, in a few places, burst into flames. The heat waves leapt high and twisted into a dark form. A dragon towered above and behind Harry2. Flames wrapped around the dragon. It's two glowing red eyes opened to peer hungrily at Nagini. 

     Nagini stood frozen by the vision. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open in stunned shock. The dragon continued to darken until it was blacker than the shadows in the forest, blacker even than Harry2's hair. It swiftly lifted itself further into the air. Harry2's shoulders shook with deep breaths. Sweat broke out along the line of his forehead. The gigantic jaws of the black dragon snapped open and shut once. Rearing up above the trees, the dragon arched around and crashed downward at Nagini with its jaws wide open. She managed to scream before flames so hot they burned even the light engulfed her. 

     Even from where they were standing, the wave of heat that rolled over Francis, Harry, and Sirius was hot enough to singe their eyebrows and hair. The twisting body of the descending dragon sunk further and further into the ground that Nagini had been standing on, until it finally disappeared. The ground bubbled red as lava. Harry2 took one final deep breath, and collapsed from exhaustion. 

     Draco whistled as he saw the blackened remains of the forest behind Nagini. "Now that," he said to no one in particular, "was impressive."   
  
  
  


**author's notes:** A bit about Francis' background, since I don't believe I will actually write it into the story. Francis, until he was five years old, and his parents lived together on a ranch with family in Australia. When Francis was six, his parents finally had enough money saved up to move back to England. When Francis was eight, WWI broke out and his father, who had joined the airforce, went off to fight. Two years later, he was lost in a struggle against Germany. The only thing they could find out of what happened to Potter Senior was his rotary blades from the front of the plane with some siding torn off of it, which had Potter Senior's fighter plane's number on it. They never did find out what happened to him. For all anyone knows, Potter Senior was taken prisoner, tortured, and killed. Since it's not significant in the story, it wouldn't be brought up. On the other hand, Francis kept the rotary blades as a reminder of who he lost, and this was thrown at him by magic on the last day of his, well, past, and it was what cut him in half. Basically, the symbolism here is the very thing that was the cause of Francis' father's death would have also been the downfall of him.   
One last thing about Francis, and that is his goggles. These are flight goggles, and a pair that Potter Senior gave Francis when he had joined the airforce. They were the last thing Francis ever recieved from his father, so he wears them everywhere. That's the explanation for the goggles if anyone is curious; it's not so much as they help the plotline, but rather help define who Francis is. 


	14. Chapter 14

     It took only a few moments after that for Francis to take over. Seeing how wretched Sirius was, how snappish and unreasonable Severus felt like being, how tired Harry was, and how Draco looked torn between comforting both Harrys and being unable to make up his mind which one he wanted, Francis decided it was up to him be to the responsible adult. As both the Bloody Baron and Cousin Quigley disappeared without a word the moment Nagini had appeared, it meant that Francis was not nearly as stressed as before. 

     He ordered Draco to carry/drag Harry2 back to Hogwarts with them before Nagini's many cronies descended upon them. Francis had Harry lean against him for support. Sirius just trailed along with the end of Harry's overcoat clutched tightly in one fist as he looked pathetically lost. 

     The five men and one ghost scuttled back to Hogwarts as fast as they could. They saved time by making a beeline to Hogsmeade. They took a quick moment to rummage through some emergency supplies that Draco had stored for some decent clothes for Harry to wear. They were slightly baggy around his skinny frame, but Draco had smiled at him and said not to worry, Harry would grow in due time. 

     Then Draco showed them a secret passage that led to Hogwarts, which both Remus and Sirius had known in their childhood. Inside the tunnel, they carefully skirted about the multiple traps both magical and nonmagical that Draco had set up as precaution against sneaking invaders. 

     "High amounts of magic can trigger any sorts of traps," Draco explained softly as he dismantled one particularly large nonmagical trap so they could get by it. It looked like it would do anything from skinning a person alive, to tarring and feathering an attacker. "Hell; any sort of magic within certain areas will trigger a magical trap. That's why I'm not using a floating spell for that hunk of man over there." 

     Harry2 twitched in his sleep. Harry frowned in annoyance. "You know," he said, "if I were serious, I would say that you were cheating on me." 

     Sirius looked up. "M-me?" he asked. 

     "No, not you." 

     "Oh." Sirius looked away. Harry felt sorry at the lost expression his godfather wore. His heart bled at the sight and knowledge of what had happened. In the dim light that Francis' makeshift torch cast, Sirius looked even more pathetic than usual. 

     "Someone had to do it," Draco said as they continued on. "Someone had to become a spy for the resistance, but we could only take volunteers. Professor Snape disappeared a few days after Voldemort was defeated, and no one ever knew what happened to him. After over a year passed, we figured he died. So Black volunteered to become the spy. The Queen Bitch had a maddening presence. Too long in it would drive a person insane, which is what happened to most of her closest followers. They became mindless fools whose only purpose in life was to do her bidding. Black fought against it the best he could, but eventually even he fell to the presence." 

     Draco looked over his shoulder at Sirius, who had reattached himself to Harry. "Of course, he wasn't quite the same since you died anyway. We think he drew himself into that helpless child-like manner of his as a protection against Nagini. He draws out of it every once in a while when Lupin tries to cheer him up. Not much, but enough for us to know that somewhere within him is the Sirius Black of old." 

     Looking at Sirius Black, his body withered into a sack of bones and his hair stringy and thin, Harry found it difficult that this, this simpleton really, was the stubborn and handsome Sirius Black who escaped Azkaban and stood against Professor Severus Snape the Terror of the Hogwarts Dungeons multiple times. 

     Even Severus the ghost found it difficult to believe. "Damn," he muttered each time Sirius looked at him. "Damn. Now I'll never get to use that muzzle! Damn!" Sirius whimpered and hugged himself close to Harry. "I miss the old Sirius. Damn!" 

     "We will have to find Remus Lupin." Draco frowned thoughtfully. "I still can't figure out where he up and disappeared to. He has always stuck to the Forbidden Forest during the full moon, just in case we needed him." 

     Francis knew where this conversation was heading. Draco had already explained to him and Severus that Remus managed to somehow exert enough force over his werewolf self that he recognized Sirius and Draco as friends and came when the horn blew. Years from taking the Wolfbane potion had left some permanent positive changes in his overall control. 

     "Well," Francis said brightly, "we found Harry. Two of him, in fact!" 

     Draco looked sad. "Yes." 

     Harry perked up slightly. "And we can leave now through the Mirror of Rebounds." 

     Draco looked even sadder. "I suppose." 

     "At least now you don't have to worry about Nagini." 

     Draco gazed at Harry with watery gray eyes. "True." 

     An awkward silence fell over them. Harry2 stirred and they waited long enough for him to emerge fully into conscience before forcing him unsteadily upon his feet. Harry2 held his head and winced as if suffering from a severe migraine. 

     "Now," Harry2 muttered, "I know why Grandmother was so adamant at making me promise to never use Ember Death unless it was a hopeless situation and I had people who would still trust me after such a display of power at my back." 

     "Tiring?" Severus asked. 

     "Exhausting. The Ember Death used my energy to burn, and hungered to burn everything. Grandmother said that fire and ice are the same, though fire is an element and ice is a component of Winter. Both Winter and fire possess selfish and greedy personalities that want to destroy or take back that which was once their own." Harry2 stumbled and fell against Draco's back. Draco braced himself against the weight and threw a patient look over his shoulder at Harry2. 

     Harry2 bristled at the look. Slowly, he pushed himself away from Draco. "You and I--that is, me in the sense of being Harry Potter--wouldn't happen to be . . .?" 

     Draco shrugged. "You and the other Harry both seem to have the same sort of acceptance problems." He frowned at them and placed his hands on his hips. "I get it now; you're both homophobic!" 

     Harry2 shrugged. "Look, it's not us; it's you." 

     "Exactly," agreed Harry. "How would you like it if you were your old self, back when you hated us, and we popped up and said we love you and we are lovers?" 

     Draco continued to frown. "Your problem is lack of tolerance." He looked thoughtful. "On the other hand, my Harry was like that too." He grinned wickedly. "At least until I had him pinned against the wall in some corner and my tongue was down his throat and my hands firmly planted on his tight lovely ars--" 

     Francis choked and Severus appeared between Draco and Harry. "That does it!" the ghost snapped. "Harry, I'll tie him up and you two gag him!" 

     Draco grinned. "All right! Bondage!" The others stared at him incredulously. "Of course, Harry and I never did a threesome with a ghost before." He glanced at the two Harrys. "Or cloning, so it would be more of a foursome, but I'm willing to try anything new!" He rubbed his hands together eagerly. "I like to think I'm open-minded. Sounds kinky anyway!" 

     Harry gave Francis an imploring look. "Can we leave now? Where's the Mirror of Rebounds?" 

     Severus folded his arms before himself. "For once, I agree with Harry. Can we leave now?" 

     Harry2 edged closer to Harry. "Can I do with you?" he asked. "I'm sure that as soon as Mom finishes ravaging or ravishing or whatever to Lupin that she'll come and find me." He blinked at the dubious looks the others gave him. "What?" 

     Draco leaned close to Harry2. "Did you just say that your mother was ravaging or ravishing Remus Lupin?" He looked awed. "So the sly cur went and got himself laid while the rest of us were getting ourselves killed?" He threw his arms outward. "How come I never get that sort of luck?" He looked pointedly at Harry and Harry2. "Where were you two when I really needed it?" 

     Harry2 shrugged again. "Hey, I can't help my mom's hormones." 

     Francis pushed forward through the ranks of people. "Time to change the subject," he said hurriedly. "We're going to have to leave soon. As in: right now, please!" 

     Sirius sniffled and attached himself to Harry2. Harry2 stared down at him. Sirius gazed up at him with watery eyes and hugged Harry2's arm tighter. Harry2 rolled his eyes in disbelief and hurried after the quickly-retreating others, dragging Sirius along.   
  
  


     The Mirror of Rebounds and Pandora's Box sat side-by-side where Francis had placed them in what had once been Headmaster Dumbledore's office. Draco had again fallen into a state of depression. A lost-puppy look, much like Sirius', was plastered on his face. Harry, Harry2, Francis, and Severus surrounded the Mirror of Rebounds and Pandora's Box in a circle. The Mirror of Rebounds was tilted on the side they had never jumped realities with before. Francis made a mental note to flip it over. Otherwise, they would either travel back into the past, or they would jump into the last reality. 

     "You know," Harry2 said momentarily. "You have potential for being a great swordsman. You have the ferocity and the energy; you just need to work on your basic skills. Twelve hours with my uncle Nandin would either make you better or kill you." 

     Draco did not stir from his state of depression. He gazed at the two Harrys with tear-filled eyes. Sirius whimpered and clung to Draco as he stared at the two Harrys in a like manner. Sirius had been told that his Harry and his other Harry were leaving now, and would not be back. Sirius not only looked like he was going to have a fit of hysterics at any moment, but also commit suicide afterwards. 

     "Can I have a hug?" Draco asked finally. "Just a hug goodbye? Please?" 

     "Me too!" Sirius cried loudly as he bounced up and down excitedly. "Me too! Me too!" 

     Harry and Harry2 exchanged worried glances. "Should we let them?" Harry asked. 

     "I'm afraid that if I said yes then they'll attach themselves to us at the hip." 

     Severus grunted and crossed his arms before himself. "Or some other place," he muttered darkly. 

     Francis' arm twitched as if he was going to elbow Severs in the side. "Look," he told the two Harrys, "just give them hugs. It's not as if we will be back, because we probably won't." Nothing was said of what they would do when they jumped back to their original reality. The two Harrys sighed and then held their arms out. Draco slowly approached Harry while Sirius practically leapt into Harry2's arms. As Draco brushed into Harry's arms, the top of Pandora's Box flung open suddenly. 

     There were a few squeaks of surprise (and perhaps one of indignation from Harry) as the power flooded into the room and the Mirror of Rebounds spun suddenly on its hinges. As all five persons and one ghost were sucked into the Mirror of Rebounds, the simple spell that Draco had left in the room as an assurance against attacks was triggered. 

     Even as everyone in the room disappeared into the depths of the Mirror of Rebounds, the Shrinking charm made them smaller, and smaller, and smaller. Pandora's Box swept into the Mirror of Rebounds, which folded into itself and disappeared as well with a silent pop. 

     Cousin Quigley, the Bloody Baron, and this reality's Harry appeared. All three persons were transparent or, in Cousin Quigley's case, very washed out. 

     "Thanks," Harry told the two Snapes. "They don't belong here; it's just them now that everyone else died, and they don't deserve this kind of life. I'll miss them, but they're probably better off now." 

     "No problem," the Bloody Baron said. "This promises to be most amusing in the future." 

     Cousin Quigley looked uncertain. "This throws a wrench into our machinery of plans," he moaned. He tugged at one lock of hair. "I didn't foresee this happening. All I wanted was that other Harry to jump into the mess. If they don't reach Tom Riddle, they'll be jumping until they all die trying. Pandora can't reach them; she's trapped where she is. We're in trouble anyway, especially with Severus." He sighed. 

     Harry squinted at them. "Just out of curiosity, while I realize that you are concerned with the Snape family, why are you trying so hard to rescue this one reality from Voldemort?" 

     Cousin Quigley sniffed. A single tear rolled down his face. "Because the realities, even if they are separate and wholly different because a catalyst forced them to split, follow suit to one another. It's almost as if they try to mirror one another in an attempt to become one as they were before. If Harry of our reality can defeat Voldemort without dying, then the greater majority of the other realities will echo it. Not because they are connected, but because it's possible." 

     "So, in other words, by saving your reality, other realities would be saved too?" 

     Cousin Quigley nodded his head. "Something to that effect. This reality might even be saved as well, because they would be back in their own time a few years before this happened. You might be alive, and in which case, will not know that this ever happened. Well, mostly." 

     Harry cocked his head to the side. "Mostly? I'm confused." 

     "That's what our Harry said too." 

     "Oh? You explained this to him already?" 

     "Um, no." Cousin Quigley smiled self-consciously. "I tried explaining other things, but he never quite figured it out. Francis had to explain, which was mostly the reason for his existence." 

     Harry blinked. "Mostly?" 

     Cousin Quigley looked at Harry sadly. "We all exist for a purpose. The Universe' main goal is to survive, if every one of us contributes to helping it survive. If Earth falls, it upsets the precarious balance of existence, and all the other worlds will follow suit. Earth is important for some odd reason, why I haven't quite managed to figure out yet. You see, Harry; your only purpose to life is to be the person who kills Voldemort. He's immortal otherwise, and you were created with the purpose to take him down when you die. I don't like that concept, so I try to fight against it. In this way, if Voldemort is killed but you aren't, you'll at least then have a purpose to live a life not meant to be a means to Voldemort's end." 

     Harry bristled angrily. He closed his eyes, and then reopened them. "So, in other words," he said in a seething voice, "my entire existence was just to get rid of Voldemort? I wasn't meant to live beyond his death?" He clenched his hands into fists. "Everything that_ I _went through was _just _to get rid of_ him _and help the Universe _ survive_?!" 

     Cousin Quigley sighed. He snapped his fingers three times before Harry's face. Each time his fingers snapped, Harry's eyes shut tightly before reopening. After the third time, Harry no longer looked angry. He just looked dazed and confused. 

     "We'll see you later," Cousin Quigley said with forced cheerfulness. "Maybe we'll even pass by to tell you now and then about how Draco and Sirius are doing." Harry nodded stupidly. With a resigned sigh, Cousin Quigley and the Bloody Baron disappeared.   
  
  


     When they finally popped into the new reality, the first thing Harry noticed was the gigantic smooth wood block that stood next to them. He craned his neck to look above. It extended a seemingly impossible distance into the air before branching off at a T. Seated on top of the T, gigantic talons curved and locked around the outstretch and feathers glimmering almost too brightly in the dim light, was a bird the size of a mountain. 

     Harry dropped his head, rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, and then surveyed his surroundings in astonishment. They stood upon a flat, granite surface, which broke evenly in squares. Off to their right was a peak of wood that connected to a gigantic square of wood. 

     "That," said Francis behind Harry, "is ugly." Harry looked over his shoulder to see Francis, Harry2, and Draco examining a fly the size of an adult blast-end skrewt. Harry could see the ridges of the exoskeleton, the pattern on the glossy wings, the extended sucker, the wire-like hairs, and the multi-faceted lifeless eyes. Sirius was seated beside Pandora's Box and the Mirror of Rebounds. He looked vaguely lost, but that was nothing new. 

     "Any idea as to where we are?" Harry asked finally. "And where is Uncle Severus?" 

     "Up here." Harry craned his neck upward again at the direction of Severus' voice. The ghost floated so high up that Harry barely heard his voice. Severus shaded his eyes as he scanned the horizons, and then dropped down to float beside Harry. "If I were a bug--" He noticed then the fly the others were studying. He cleared his throat. "That is to say, since we are the size of an insect, we now have a perception of the world from an insect's point of view." 

     Harry looked around. "It's big," he said. 

     "Obviously," Severus said dryly. "Either the Mirror of Rebounds screwed up, or we are in some reality where everything is huge." 

     "Or maybe," Draco said pointedly from where he was prodding the dead fly with the point of his sword, "maybe we should all think of the counter-charm to the shrinking charm that struck us as we got sucked into that thing. I told you guys not to use high amounts of magic." 

     Francis reached for his wand. "What sort of shrinking charm did you use?" 

     "The out of sight, out of mind one. I used it because there wasn't supposed to be a counter-charm, and I had looked forward to squashing intruders." 

     Francis blinked. "I don't believe I'm familiar with that one. Ah well." He frowned in concentration as he twirled his wand in his fingers. "The shrinking charm was anchored to the immensity of the power used," he said almost absent-mindedly. "The stronger the power, the more the stronger the charm's strength and reduction in size of the target--which, in this case, was us." He began to draw a pattern in mid-air. The very tip of his wand glowed a light pink, and it left a lustrous after-trail in the air. 

     A giant squawk rang through the air. Being as the decibels of the sound waves created from the squawk were roughly the same size as the pea-sized reality jumpers, hands flew to cover ears as everyone winced all around. Except for Severus, who did not seem to be affected by anything that took place. 

     "That was Fawkes," said Severus to no one in particular. Even if the squawk had shattered the majority of eardrums, it was still the beautiful ring of something almost too otherworldly to be known to the wizarding world. Bright magenta and scarlet swirled above their heads and Fawkes, resembling a mountain due of sheer size, fluttered to a landing onto the floor before Francis. Fawkes extended his long, graceful neck and peered at Francis with first one eye, and then twisted his head to peer at Francis with the other. 

     Everyone held their breath. Fawkes dipped his head until he was almost eye-to-eye with Francis. Several long moments passed. As Fawkes lifted his head and fluffed his feathers, everyone released their pent-up breath into a sigh. That was when Fawkes' head snapped forward and Francis disappeared in a quick gulp. 

     Shock was the main cause of the hovering silence as Fawkes burped in contentment and then began to preen his feathers. Finally, Harry spoke. "He just ate Francis!" 

     Draco shook a fist at Fawkes. "You bastard!" 

     Severus rolled his eyes. "Who else wants to be a Phoenix Munchy?" 

     Harry2 pointed wildly at Fawkes. "We just can't leave Francis inside of him!" 

     Severus coldly glared at his nephew's other self. Harry2 cringed and looked away. "How do you propose we rescue Francis? Should we charge Fawkes and jam ourselves down his throat with hopes to be regurgitated along with Francis? Perhaps we can counter-charm ourselves into being big so we can wring his scrawny neck. Or should we remove ourselves from the premises before he decided he is still hungry, and seek Dumbledore?" 

     Draco, Harry, and Harry2 exchanged looks. 

     "I could roast him," Harry2 ventured to say. 

     Severus rolled his eyes. "And in the process you'll probably incinerate him back into an egg. Then where will Francis be?" 

     They exchanged looks again. Severus carefully gathered up Pandora's Box, whirled around in mid-air and floated away. "Now," he could be heard mumbling to himself, "where would Dumbledore be at this very moment?" 

     Fawkes paused in his preening. He eyed Draco in the same manner as he eyed Francis moments before Francis met with another dastardly end. 

     Draco and the two Harrys hurried after Severus, who had floated through the door at the very end of the room. They jumped over crevices in the floor, which were easily almost as wide as Harry was tall. Harry2 leapt over them like a graceful stag, undaunted by the physical aspect of running. Harry slid, scraped, and otherwise tripped his way across the floor to the door. Draco followed closely behind him. He claimed he was ready to catch Harry should Harry miss a jump, but Harry secretly suspected Draco of trying to cop a feel if he had the chance to. 

     By the time they reached the door, they all realized they had forgotten someone. 

     "Where's Black?" Draco asked with a frown. They looked over their shoulders at the direction they had run from Fawkes. 

     "Where's the Mirror of Rebounds?" Harry wondered. 

     Harry2 sighed. "I'll go get them. You two stay here." He scrambled across the floor once more. He carefully watched Fawkes for any suspicious movement, but the phoenix ignored the scampering figure as he preened his feathers. Sirius was right where he had been last, still seated beside the Mirror of Rebounds. A distant look was plastered on his face, which lent the impression that he was daydreaming. 

     With a careful eye on Fawkes, Harry2 slowly put an arm around Sirius. Sirius glanced at him, sniffled, and then leaned against the arm. Harry2 wrapped his other arm through the Mirror of Rebound's frame. He held it close to his side and tugged Sirius to his feet. Sirius swayed slightly from left to right. Harry2 slowly walked backwards with Sirius on tow. Fawkes continued to preen his feathers and ignoring the others. Harry2 and Sirius reached the ravine that was the crack between two stones. Harry2 nudged Sirius. 

     "Jump," Harry2 whispered. 

     Sirius blinked. Harry2 sighed and wrapped both arms around Sirius' ribcage beneath his arms. Sirius frowned at them and then shook a disapproving finger in Harry2's face as he pushed away. "Draco'll kill me," he said in explanation. Harry2 stared at his sort-of godfather in shock before he quickly shook his head. 

     "I'm not Harry," he said carefully. Sirius squinted at him. 

     "Yes." It was firm. 

     "Well, sort of. I'm just not_ your _Harry." 

    Sirius squinted again. He shook his head, ground the palm of his hands into his eyes, and pulled Harry2 closer. "Yes. You are Harry." The slur in his words, the perpetual whine of a child who was never permitted his own way and could not quite understand why, was slowly disappearing, as well as the faded look in his eyes. 

     "Okay, so I'm Harry. But we're both in trouble, and we have to get in this ravine." 

     Far across the room, Harry2 was aware of the others jumping up and down and waving their arms to get his attention. He ignored them. 

     "Ravine?" Sirius turned from Harry2 to study it. He put both his hands on his hips as he glared down at it. "Looks more like a large crack in the floor to me." 

     "Well, it is, but we have to get over it." 

     A shadow fell across them. Harry2 and Sirius looked up to see a giant beak descending. Harry2 shoved Sirius to the side and jumped to the other as Fawkes snapped his head forward to eat one or the other. Without pausing, his head swiveled. He snapped at Sirius, who managed to gasp a, "What the bloody hell?" before he was eaten almost in the same manner as Fawkes. 

     Harry2 tucked and rolled to his feet. "That was my godfather!" he yelled at Fawkes. 

     Fawkes turned and eyed him with obvious hunger. Harry2 braced himself for a battle. Fawkes leapt into the air, angled himself downward, and dive-bombed Harry2. Harry2 took a running jump and, with a bright flash of red that surrounded his entire figure, met Fawkes head-on in a clash of melodious cries, bright plumage, and the distinct heat waves of dancing flames. 

     With a sigh, Severus turned around. "I say we get Professor Dumbledore," he said as he floated through the large office door. 

     Harry pointed after the small firestorm that was beginning to form between the phoenix and fire demon. "But what about--" 

     "Leave them," Severus called through the door. "None of us are capable of getting between two supernatural beings--even if one of them is about the same size as his IQ--and hope to come out of it alive." 

     "I meant the Mirror of Rebounds," Harry grumbled. He realized how close Draco was standing to him and gave him a quick glare. They quickly exited the room by slipping beneath the crack between the door and the floor, and were faced with another dilemma. 

     "How do you suppose we get up the stairs?" Harry asked as he stared at the smooth, vertical surface that rose far above his head. 

     Draco grinned as he flourished his wand. "We can fly! I know this charm that will--ACH!" 

     Severus grabbed the two cousins by the back of their robes and chucked them up the stairs. They bounced to a rough landing on the fourth stair, but before they could recover, Severus had repeated the movement. 

     "I don't believe I care for this Severus," Draco grumbled from the mass of aching limbs that he had landed in. Harry rubbed his head. 

     "I think I landed on it," he moaned. 

     "No damage done then," Severus said before he finally tossed them to the top landing. 

     "If we were our normal selves," Draco told Severus sternly, "landing at such a high flight would kill us." 

     "Gravity has less effect upon lower body mass since you are now all equivalent to the bugs that I claimed children to be for years." 

     Draco turned to Harry. "Is he always like this?" he whispered loudly behind his hand. 

     Harry nodded. "It got worse after he died," he whispered back. 

     Severus' eyebrow twitched. "Come on," he said as he swept past them with a wave of chilly air that followed in his wake, "we have to find Dumbledore." 

     Draco grumbled as he and Harry scrambled to catch up with Severus' quick flight. "Easier said than done," said Draco. They ran down endless hall after endless hall, following after Severus. After nearly three halls and four corners, Draco and Harry stopped to take a breather. 

     "I," gasped Draco, "don't remember this place being THIS big!" 

     "I," gasped Harry in reply, "don't remember ever being this small before!" 

     That was when rumble filled the air then. Draco and Harry swayed unsteadily from the vibrating floor. Doors from either side of the hall flung open. Voices lifted up in laughter and cheerful chatter as the children escaped their last class of the day. 

     Harry and Draco scrambled frantically to prevent themselves from becoming gooey little messes on the bottom of people's shoes. Harry looked overheard to see the dark surface of one descending foot and threw himself out of the way just as Draco swerved to avoid a dragging foot. They slammed into one another and fell over. Harry's glasses flew off his nose from the impact and were pulverized by a foot that came within a hair's width of flattening him. 

     The world became a misshapen plane of blurred colors and jumbled shapes. Harry panicked instantly at not being able to see where he was going. He tripped and fell down a crack. He landed on his stomach and convulsed once for badly needed breath. And just like that, the passing of scattered students was done. 

     Above him, at the edge of the crack, Harry could hear Draco calling down to him. 

     "Are you all right, love?" 

     Harry forced enough air back into his lungs to answer. "Don't call me that!" 

     "Well, you a--ach!" Harry jumped as he heard feet scuffle and the sound of metal sliding against leather. Something whistled through the air at the same time a large creature growled. "Back! Back you monstrous beast!" 

     Harry squinted at the light source above him. "What's going on?" he called. 

     "Back! Ah hah! Don't like that, do you? Take this! And this! And this too!" 

     "MROOOWWOOOR!" 

     "And this! Hah!" 

     Harry felt something cold appear close by. He reached out and his fingertips brushed against ice-cold air. "Uncle Severus?" 

     There was a slight pause. "Your husband," said Severus in a toneless voice, "is currently hacking away at Mrs. Norris' fur." 

     Harry sputtered. "What do you mean_ my _husband?" 

     Severus continued as if Harry had not said a word. "It's quite amusing really; it's like a flea trying to mutilate a gigantic wolfhound with a drinking straw." He sighed and shook his head. "I'm beginning to wonder about that boy. I think you were a bad influence on him." 

     "_Me?!_" 

     Above their heads, Mrs. Norris finally took a swipe at the annoying little creature that had been prodding her with a needle. Draco jumped away from the paw, landed unsteadily, and fell over the edge of the floor crack that Harry was stuck in. 

     He landed on Harry. 

     "Are you okay?" Draco helped Harry upright as Harry dry-heaved against the pain in his back and shoulders. 

     "I'm fine," Harry muttered, "I've probably just got a broken collar bone, maybe a cracked shoulder plate or vertebrae . . ." 

     Severus harrumphed. "Since you two are incapable of handling this mess without muddling matters up worse, you can just stay here. I'm going to find someone who is dependable and very unlikely to foul things up." With that, he floated away in search for himself.   
  
  


     Severus found this reality's Professor Snape bent over this reality's Draco Malfoy's potion. Professor Snape was remarking on how well the color was and the scent that permeated it--apples and cream--was correct. With each pointed remark he made, he sent glares and sly glances over to the Gryffindors' side of the dungeons room. He dipped a ladle into the potion and brought it to his lips to taste. 

     Severus perched himself on Professor Snape's gargantuan nose and waved his hands for attention. He snarled under his breath as Professor Snape closed his eyes to appreciate the taste of Draco's potion. "Hey. Hey you!" Severus jumped up and down and waved his arms wildly. 

     Professor Snape's eyes snapped open. Severus ominously folded his cloak around himself. "I," said Severus, "want to have a word with you." 

    Professor Snape choked at the sight of an indignant miniature of himself with unprecedented curly hair.   
  
  
  


**author's notes:** Ah, the characters . . . Well, I would like to somehow justify how wildly out of character everyone all turned out in this chapter (minus the Bloody Baron, Cousin Qugiley, Harry2, and Francis), and all I can say is that the stress of reality jumping and the rather dark outcome of Draco's and Sirius' reality finally got to them [er, me]. I'm in college now, so the chapters may or may not be generated faster. It depends on my amount of homework. And as for the fates of the two Phoenix Munchies and poor Harry2 going one-on-one with Fawkes . . . well, that remains to be seen. They will come back though, but not as ghosts. =)   
  
**Ariana Deralte:** I realize that I have octopus in the story somewhere instead of squid, but every time I go looking for it, I can never find it. ;.;   
**J. Lynn:** Never heard of this Series of Unfortunate Events. Actually, what is starting to emerge within this story is my natural sense of cynicism. I'm very good at being like that. Chapter fourteen has a great deal of this.  
**Lyta Padfoot:** Just between you and me, Cousin Quigley's drunken states are always genuine. (Just when the plot starts to get really superficial, I can still manage to pull surprises out! Muahahaha!!) Anyway, I don't think too many people would have questions about Cousin Quilgey's [unorthadox] methods of saving the Potter/Snape family. Expect something quite large to be learned more about Cousin Quigley in the future. ^_^ 


	15. Chapter 15

     "Now," said Severus in a no-nonsense matter to his other-reality self, "I am your conscience. I am that annoying little figure that has been the voice of reason that you have gagged continuously over the years. Well, I'm putting a stop to that right now. I'm here to make sure that you give a little whistle and other such nonsense. See?" 

     Professor Snape's eyes crossed to peer closely at the little figure perched on the end of his nose. He waved his hand irritably and frowned as his fingers swept through the tiny image._ Why did my fingers just get cold? _he wondered absently. 

     "Professor Snape?" he heard Draco asked with concern. Professor Snape straightened and tried to appear that there was nothing unusual with having a transparent figure of himself perched on his nose. 

     "Good potion, as always Malfoy," he said. 

     He ignored the miniature of himself who glared pointedly at Draco and said in a smooth voice all too much like his own, "Suck up." Professor Snape moved to the front of the room. He whirled around at the base of his desk and surveyed the class coldly. He finally gave into the chill that had crept into his bones earlier and gathered the ends of his cloak around himself. "Class dismissed." 

     There was a moment of stunned silence where no one moved. Professor Snape had, never before in the history of his teaching career, cut a class short. After the moment passed, students rapidly filed from the class, as if they were afraid that Professor Snape would suddenly take back the boon. A few stared at him warily over their shoulders, suspicious of Professor Snape's ulterior motives. No doubt they would suffer for it the next time their Potions class met. Professor Snape glared at every tardy student with his back ramrod straight and his cloak drawn tightly around himself. 

     The last student finally escaped from the oppressive atmosphere. Professor Snape stood a few moments after the door finally closed, then sat down. He sighed as the pressure that built at the base of his spinal column and ascended upward to his shoulders slowly dissipated along with the aches in his joints. 

     But now was not the time to contemplate how swiftly he was becoming old when he was supposed to be in the prime years of his life, or how utterly mortal he felt. 

     Now was time to contemplate the little figure perched upon his nose. Professor Snape was unsure of where this "conscience" came from. If he remembered correctly, Professor Snape had gagged, hogtied, and wrapped his conscience within so many chains and ropes that Houdini himself would have problems escaping, stuffed the conscience into a bag with weights, and dropped it off the proverbial side of the bridge into deep waters so many years ago when he joined Voldemort. 

     Staring at the curls, he had to wonder if this was some trick the Weasley twins were playing from beyond Hogwarts. 

     Neither Snape was determined to be the first to say a word though. They stared at one another in a predatory manner, daring the other to be the first to move. It was when the tiny Severus folded his legs and sat down on the edge of Professor Snape's nose as if he intended to camp there that Professor Snape decided it was up to him to break the silence. 

     "What am I supposed to do with you?" he asked himself softly. 

     The tiny Severus' upper body stiffly turned to face him. "_You _can do what I tell you." 

     "Why should I?" 

     "I am your conscience. I know what is good for you." 

     "Do you now?" 

     "Yes. You need help understanding how to help people, which is good for you. So I have a task. It will be daunting and challenging, because you will be tempted to do something horrendous." 

     "And if I do that something?" 

     "Then I will tell Dumbledore who strung his underwear up in broad view on a dare." 

     "That was Lucius!" 

     Professor Snape thought he heard his conscience mutter something about how it was too bad some things did not remain the same in every reality, but he dismissed it when his conscience shook a finger at him. "Nonetheless, I will find out what you feel guilty about, and I will tell him." 

     Professor Snape frowned. "If you're my conscience, then how will you be able to tell Dumbledore? Technically, you don't exist, and if you did, I'm the only one who can see or hear you. And you're supposed to know what I feel guilty about anyway." 

     "Operative word here: I am your conscience. If I feel like doing something, then I will do it. I may have been out of . . . commission, for a while, but I'll make up for it!" 

     Professor Snape contemplated this. How true; he would not put it past his conscience to pull a dirty trick. After all, it was his conscience. That was what he would do if he were a conscience 

     In a small corner of his mind, Professor Snape had to wonder how he, a Slytherin, managed to even have a conscience in the first place. 

     He blamed it on genetics. That was easy to do in this day and age where Muggle science was becoming more adept than wizarding magic. "What is this test?" 

     The little Snape-conscience floated off his nose. "Follow me." 

     Professor Snape watched the tiny figure float the door and then turn about in midair. The glare his conscience sent him was enough for even him to move. He stood up and stalked after the floating figure, and tried to appear as if he were not.   
  
  


     "So," said Draco, "tell me about yourself. I'd like to know more about you." 

     Harry and Draco were seated with their backs against one wall of stone and their feet planted firmly at a ninety-degree angle against the other wall of stone. They had been quiet for the long while since Severus left. 

     Harry had slowed down for the first time since he had sat in Marcia's kitchen and had pizza with Harry2. His weariness finally caught up with him and he slumped tiredly forward. He fought to keep awake until Severus came back. It took a long moment for him to gather enough energy to think through what Draco said. He looked sideways at Draco, who smiled expectedly, and then tried to inconspicuously inch away from him. Without missing a beat, Draco sidled closer to him. 

     Harry sighed. His chin dropped onto his clavicle. "Look," he said tiredly, "I'm not trying to say that I hate you, I don't want to hurt your feelings, I don't--" 

     Draco's eyes popped wide. "You aren't breaking up with me are you?" 

     Harry sighed again and wondered if Harry2 was having a better time than him. "No," he said finally. 

     Draco smiled jubilantly and threw an arm around Harry's shoulder. He ignored Harry's tensing. "Sweetheart," he said. 

     "Don't call me that," Harry growled through gritted teeth. Draco ignored that too. 

     "You know the one thing that I loved most about you?--besides that wonderful thing you could do with your hands, that is--I love the way you are always so calm and mild." Draco also loved the bright shade of red Harry turned whenever someone said something slightly too personal or embarrassing, but Draco decided it wisest not to mention that. "I have never known anyone to be as mild as you. I loved the way you were always so calm. Well, it infuriated me at first, but I think it was the thing that helped me accept the love the potion made." 

     Harry sighed again. 

     "I know; this is an emotional moment, isn't it?" Draco dabbed at his own eyes. 

     "No." Harry looked at Draco. "It's just that you are not the Draco Malfoy that I know. The Draco Malfoy that I know is arrogant, spoiled, and parrots his father." 

     Draco sniffed. "I like to think I moved beyond such childish behavior." 

     "But that is how I know you!" Harry dropped his feet and twisted around to face Draco. He crossed his legs in a pretzel and placed the palms of his hands on his knees. He squinted to get a better look at Draco. Without his glasses, most of Draco's features ran together. "And then I go from knowing you as that brat, to you being this kind, open-minded, very touchy-feely older person who just think of me as some sort of gender that I'm not!" 

     Draco looked at Harry for a long moment. He leaned forward and placed a hand on each of Harry's shoulders. "Harry," he said softly, "I do not think of you as a woman. Believe me, you are all man. First of all, I realize how utterly different we may be from one another, particularly if we're from different realms. But that doesn't matter, because you are you. Second of all, you probably think that I think of you on the same terms as my Harry. On some levels, that is true. You are the same as my Harry in that you are both the Boy-Who-Lived. Through that were matters you could not control, and it formed you into the man I love. But you are both different because of circumstances that changed your realms. That which is the same between you two is what I love. I know there are things different between you two, and I want to know of those differences." 

     Harry blinked as Draco dropped his hands and leaned back. "Now, if you are uncomfortable with me touching you, tell me. I will try to keep my distance from you because it would make you feel better." Draco paused a moment. Harry could feel him struggle a moment to find the right words. "But, but you must know that I have missed you terribly. Death not only took you, but it also run amuck with my heart and I never saw it again." Draco smiled again at Harry. "But when I saw you and knew you were alive, even if you weren't, per say, _my _Harry, my heart came back. I was alive once more, and life wasn't just about trying to get rid of the Snake Bitch. It was also about living once more, because you were there to make me see all the wonders of the world! You make everything seem all the more worthwhile!" 

     Draco drew away from Harry. His cheerfulness disappeared and he looked at Harry sideways in a cool manner. "Of course," he said slyly, "if it makes you feel better, I could go back to being a bastard." 

     Harry thought about that for about two seconds. "No. Just don't--it's just that, well. I'm not used to people touching me." 

     "Oh." Draco frowned at Harry. "Do you mean to tell me I made that speech up just to hear of how you don't want me to hug you!" 

     "Well, I might be open-minded about you touching me and all that if it weren't for a rather scaring incident with Professor Snape." 

     Draco's features swiftly went from pouting to a more closed, more cautious expression of a man who suspected the worst. "He did what." It was a flat statement without a question. The scar that stretched from Draco's temple to chin stood out lividly against his pale skin, but Harry could not see that. "Explain what you just said." 

     Harry nervously chewed the inside of his lip. "Professor Snape assaulted me in the men's bathroom?" 

     Draco turned his face from Harry. "I'll kill him," he muttered. 

     "He thought I was that reality's Ha--what did you just say?" 

     Draco stood up. "I'm going to kill him!" 

     A voice spoke behind them. "Kill who?" 

     Draco whirled around, his sword withdrawn in a single, fluid movement, to face Severus. "You! I'm going to kill you!" 

     Severus shrugged. "Too late." He looked beyond Draco to Harry. "I've got help here now," he said. He drifted upward to the top of the stones. He pointed down at Harry and Draco, and a shadow fell over them. Harry and Draco squinted up at the gigantic black eye. 

     "Professor Snape," Severus said patiently, "is here to carry both of you to Dumbledore. I expect you two to cooperate. The last thing you want to do is tempt him to smash you both like a bug." Something long and thin the color of silver thrust into the crack. Harry and Draco eyed it suspiciously. Severus floated over to the thing and perched on top of it. "Follow me," he said as he drifted up the length. 

     Draco, pushing Harry in front of him, clambered to stand on it. After much slipping and sliding over the surprisingly smooth surface, they reached the top of the stone. Harry noticed how they had climbed up the end of a spoon. At least he thought it was a spoon. They stood on the edge of the stone's crack and gazed upward at unknown territories. 

     Harry squinted upward as Draco whistled and nudged him. "I never knew that Professor Snape avoided underwear!" 

     Severus appeared very suddenly before Draco. His entire countenance was a deep red. "Draco," he said through gritted teeth. "Any more barbs along the line of sex or clothes, and I will personally have myself step on you." 

     Draco ignored him as Professor Snape bent over and laid his hand palm-up beside Harry and Draco. Harry squinted at it and silently wished for his glasses. Draco grabbed him by the upper arm as Severus told both of them to get on Professor Snape's hand. "He's taking us to Dumbledore," Severus said in explanation. 

     No one said anything as Professor Snape carefully closed his fingers around Harry and Draco and then strode purposefully to Dumbledore's office. He tried to appear as if he were not at the beck and call of the tiny Severus who hovered near his ear. 

     Inside their cramped surroundings, Harry poked at the sallow skin. "He has cold hands," he said as he curled into a tight ball. His head tiredly rolled around as Draco leaned against one of Snape's curved finger and folded his arms behind his head. He looked at Harry. 

     "Tired?" 

     Harry propped one knee up and dropped his head onto it. He closed his eyes. "Exhausted." 

     "Ah." Draco looked at him a moment longer. "Well, don't fall asleep yet. Professor Snape will find Dumbledore in just a moment." He thoughtfully wiggled his toes within his shoes. "So tell me," he said, "what do you think is the most interesting thing about this reality-jumping stuff?" When he did not receive an answer, he glanced over at Harry, who was fast asleep. Draco sighed and knitted his fingers together. After a moment, he scooted close to Harry and carefully wrapped one arm around Harry. Draco grinned at nothing in particular as he pulled Harry close and settled Harry's head on his shoulder. 

     Harry dreamed of a beautiful beachside. The copper-colored granules of sand were warm beneath his feet and the sun overheard was kind. The sapphire-blue ocean lapped gently at the shore. On the other side of the sand was a forest bursting with emerald-green foliage and neon-bright flowers. Somewhere in it, birds sang melodiously, and bright butterflies flitted from open flower bud to open flower bud. He could see it all clearly without his glasses. Harry found himself smiling at the naturalistic beauty. He walked down the line of the beach and enjoyed the sunshine. 

     Out over the ocean water, Harry saw something splash out of the water in a wide arch and dive back under. He froze and watched as a slim figure sprang from the depths of the waters, flip half over, and dived under once more. He stared at the water, but it remained smooth thereafter. 

     Harry resumed his walk in the bright day. The beach curved around as the green foliage crowded closer to it. He walked around the curve. Between the sand and the foliage, almost hidden by the tall bushes, was a large rock. Harry could see a bare foot flat on the rock. He thought he heard someone singing. He slowly walked around the curve and peered beyond the bushes to see Pandora, wearing a light summer robe with her feet bare, seated on top of the rock in the sunshine. She was brushing her black hair with an ivory brush. 

     She paused a moment to glace at Harry, and then smiled at him. "Come here," she said. She pointed at a notch in the rock. "Sit down with your back facing me." He did as she told him, and then she ran her brush through his hair. It caught a few times in some knots in his unruly hair. Harry winced as she tugged the brush free and then ran it through his hair again. "I loved doing this to my daughters," she said softly. "Anastasia, Edwina, and I would sit outside in the sunshine and brush each other's hair while Francis would cook up some disaster in the kitchen. I wanted so desperately to do this to James' hair. It was always so tangled and I didn't care for such wildness." 

     Harry felt himself relaxing into the constant sweeping through his hair. His scalp tingled at his great-grandmother's administrations. It was a foreign feeling for someone to touch him in such a manner, but it was also comfortable and gentle. He closed his eyes and leaned into the movement of the brush. All the tenseness that had built up from the constant reality-jumping eased away. 

     "Why do you brush hair?" he asked softly. 

     "Hmm?" 

     "Severus the elder used to say that your mother brushed her hair all the time, and then brushed your hair all the time." 

     "Because hair is meant to be brushed. Just as fingernails were meant to be bitten and noses are meant to be picked." 

     Harry opened his eyes. "What?" He twisted around to look at Pandora. 

     She smiled sweetly at him. "Those are Francis' very words when Oliver asked him why I liked to brush hair," she said. She twirled her brush. "Turn around, Harry." He did so. She began to brush his hair again. "In truth, Harry, my mother was one of the Gwragedd Annwn." 

     "What are those?" 

     "Lake Maidens. People tended to see them when they sat upon the banks of their watery homes and brushed their hair. My mother rose from the Waters beyond Time and came into the mortal world. She was curious about mankind and was a very young thing by many standards. She met my father, Severus Snape, and married him. She was satisfied to dwell with him for several years after I was born, and then began to yearn for her people and home. When I was sixteen, she left for the home. Da thought she died, and she may have well done so, because she never meant to come back to him or I." 

     Harry frowned. "Lake Maidens? Then you're only half human?" 

     "But you too have this non-human quality. It was very apparent in James whenever he flew. I loved to watch him fly, because even though air was his element, he took to it as if he were in water." 

     "Uncle Severus said he could swim but he never knew him to do it before." 

     Pandora paused in her brushing. "You expect a person with blood of a water creature to not swim?" 

     Harry thought about that logic. "Um, no." Pandora resumed her brushing. 

     "The Lake Maidens have magical abilities to heal. James made me promise to love for you and Severus. I thought you were dead, but Severus was alive, and I had to live for him, so I went to them to be healed. And then Severus died. Were it not for you, I would have no purpose for life." 

     "What about Francis?" Harry twisted around to look at Pandora again. "He's alive. Wouldn't you come back to him?" 

     For the first time since he had seen her in this dream, Pandora looked sad. She gently put her brush down on the rock's surface and pulled her knees up close to her chest. "The world changed too much for my dear Francis," she whispered as she gazed out over the waters. "I thought I lost him, but now he's back, and there is no way I can go to him." 

     "Can't you jump like you did last time?" 

     Pandora shook her head. "Oh Harry, were it only that simple! No, I can't jump unless there is someone to catch me." 

     Harry rose to his knees. "But Grandmother, I could catch you." 

     She smiled at him. "You're sweet." She patted him on the head and then shook a finger at him. "It's rude to interrupt, darling." She dropped her chin onto the top of her knees. "I don't have the strength to jump. Even if you knew how to catch me, I couldn't make it across the barriers." 

     "What if we used your box?" 

     Pandora unfolded her legs. She reached out and gently grabbed Harry's shoulders. "It's not that easy, Harry. What is in my box should only be used during an emergency because the power is tainted and I have nothing left. I used most of my power to strip and seal Tom Riddle's power, and then I burned everything else jumping." She paused a moment to swallow. Tears began to form in her eyes. "I shouldn't have. That jump cost me too much; I have no magic left. I should have died in Dinsmore for all that I have actually managed to do." 

     Harry shook his head. "But those dreams I had. What of them?" 

     "Power that allowed me to manifest. All of it was foreign, and I even had to use some of your own. I'm sorry, my dear." Pandora drew Harry into a fierce hug. "All I can give you is a limited amount of information. Just enough to help you unravel the mystery of why you are doing this and to push you on the way to finding a good Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle is the only one who has the strength to stop himself, no one else. You are the key to leading him back, because you are a catalyst that will make the decision for him. Voldemort has always been curious of you, because you are something that defies his logic. Tom Riddle will follow you back because he is what Voldemort could have been, and that curiosity and logic will always remain. I can only show you the path you must take." 

     "But Grandmother--" 

     "No. Don't say a word." Pandora planted a kiss on the top of his head. "The power I have to borrow reach out to you comes and goes sporadically. It's only just strong enough for me to reach out to you, and you do the rest by answering my call." She pulled away from him. "I haven't been able to tell you much, because there is that which controls what I say. But here is a place where it can only distort my words. You cannot remain here for long because the longer you are here, the less of a chance you have to leave. We are beyond Time; beyond all realities, and if you do not leave soon you will never find your way back. Tell Francis to spread his wings when the time for flight has come. Tell him that." 

     Harry stared into Pandora's eyes. "What about Cousin Quigley?" he asked. 

     Her eyes flashed angrily. Harry was taken aback by the fury within them. Pandora leaned close to him as she wrapped her arms around his shoulder again. "He's a fool," she whispered, "but he loves Severus. And while Cousin Quigley is very important, he himself will tell you why. When he reaches you, and Severus is there, you tell Cousin Quigley that I want him to tell Severus exactly how close the two are." 

     Harry blinked in confusion. "But they're father and son, right?" 

     "Yes." The word was slow. "But they met before in the slums. Have Cousin Quigley tell Severus where." 

     Harry's eyes widened. "How?" 

     And then he woke up.   
  
  


     It was Professor Snape's opening his hand and abruptly dropping both Draco and Harry onto the charcoaled mass of wood that had once been Dumbledore's desk that woke Harry up. Harry looked around himself in tired confusion as Draco looked up to see Dumbledore staring down at them with genuine surprise. 

     Harry looked over at the middle of the desk where the blur of Fawkes had collapsed in an exhausted pile of feathers. The phoenix lifted his head to peer tiredly at Harry and Draco. Harry and Draco froze. Fawkes blinked once, and then tucked his head under his wing. Beside Fawkes were two large pink eggs. Slumped on top of one of the eggs was a ragged-looking Harry2, who was asleep and therefore blissfully unaware of the audience that stared at him. 

     Severus drifted down to float beside Harry and Draco. All three of them exchanged looks. Above them, Professor Snape turned to Dumbledore. 

     "Do I even want to know why there are two eggs next to Fawkes?" 

     Dumbledore smiled sheepishly. "Well, it would appear that Fawkes shall have children." 

     They stared at the eggs for a long while. Professor Snape looked at Dumbledore again. "I'd say that Fawkes is not the father." 

     Dumbledore shrugged and shuffled his feet. "Well, actually, he is the father. I'd go as far as to say that Fawkes is not even male, but I am quite sure that he is." 

     Another long moment passed. Professor Snape gave Dumbledore an odd look. "How is that even possible for a male phoenix to lay eggs?" 

     "I have no idea." Dumbledore began to walk around to the other side of his desk. Something crunched loudly beneath his foot. A wave of green and baby-blue power swept through the room and ripped at hanging tapestries. Pain exploded in Harry's scar and he fell to his knees under the harsh assault. Fawkes squawked and soared into the air. Harry2 rolled off his egg and woke up when he landed on his head. He sat up with his hand pressed over his scar. The power faded abruptly afterwards. Harry's pain disappeared as well, only to be replaced with nausea and a dull ache between his shoulder blades. 

     Something else cracked, but it was not underfoot. Heads turned and saw the egg that Harry2 had been sleeping on shaking about. Fine cracks appeared in its surface and grew steadily wider until one piece of the eggshell broke free and fell away. A few more followed after it. A head, covered in slime and goop, slowly peeked out of the shell. 

     Francis Potter wiped egg white out of his eyes and peered around. 

     He climbed out of the egg, tripped once over the layer of shell, and attempted to clean his glasses with a slimy corner of his mucky sleeve. "Um." He looked around as his fellow reality-jumpers, and then upward at Dumbledore and Professor Snape. He ducked and covered his head as Fawkes flew over him to perch upon Dumbledore's shoulder. Francis squinted at Harry2 as the fire demon leaned against the other egg. "I have to admit that I have always had a rather large curiosity about the how of things but . . ." He looked long and hard at the egg from which he had just emerged, and then pointed at it. "But there is _no_ bloody way I really want to know how I managed to get swallowed by Fawkes and then regurgitated backwards in an egg."   
  
  


**author's notes:** Francis is very good at getting the last word in. Well, so is Severus, but we won't go in there. As for how could Fawkes have eggs . . . well, I'm not too sure. That would involve too much thought and my head hurts enough already. I'm sorry for taking such a long while in getting this chapter out, but I find myself overloaded with homework, and I was also trying to finish the last bit of That Which James Witnessed.   
  
**Sarah:** Honey I Shrunk The Kids? Matrix? I haven't seen the first in years and I saw the second when it was four in the morning and my best friend and I were trying to see how much pop it would take for us to stay up all night. I barely remember either, so if I made any references I am hardly aware that I have. Well, South Park yes. I don't like to make demands on people, but if any of my readers don't know anything about X-Men, do something about it. Read the comics/books/watch the movie if you have to, otherwise you won't understand and therefore appreciate the genius in which this story ends. =)  
**Thermopyle:** Without naming names . . . I Am Lord Voldemort is an excellent story, and one I recommend for fellow-Tom Riddle lovers. It is one of the few Big-Name fanfiction pieces that deserve its reputation. I don't have the time to finish reading it, but I loved the seven chapters I did manage to read when I could. My editor is going over the earlier chapters of Pandora's Box with me. I plan on reposting them when the next chapter of Pandora's Box is also finished. (Between my being swamped with homework and her doing seven hours of studying and four hours of driving a day, we should both finish at the same time . . .)  
**Hana-chan:** Yep, gotta love different reality-Draco. I said I wasn't writing slash; I'm not sure what this qualifies as though. (It's very one-sided . . . Draco's side, in fact. You can see my subtle or not-so-subtle poking at Draco/Harry common slash concepts throughout the story. No offense anyone.) Gotta love depressed-Sirius as well. *pats the egg which Sirius is stuck in* He's so cute. =)   



	16. Chapter 16

     It was about this moment when Professor Snape realized that there was something going on that did not quite fit into the conscience-gives-person-test idea that his 'conscience' had sold him on. Professor Snape tried to grab his miniature self out of the air, but when his hand passed through himself, he opted instead to grab the miniature Harry. 

     "What is going on here?" he demanded softly. Harry's head was the only thing that stuck out of Professor Snape's fist. His eyes were wide behind his glasses. 

     The miniature Draco shook his fist at him. "Put him down or you'll be sorry!" 

     Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on Professor Snape's shoulder. "Severus, do put him down." 

     Professor Snape struggled with his desire to snap at Dumlbedore, but when the miniature Draco leapt off the desk onto the floor and attacked him with a needle, he decided that Harry was not worth getting prodded continuously in the ankle for. He dropped Harry on the table next to the other . . . ? 

     Professor Snape studied the odd little creature that looked almost exactly like Harry. It defiantly stared back at him. 

     Dumbledore turned from Professor Snape and looked down at Francis, who was trying to clean himself of the egg's muck. Dumbledore leaned close and looked at Francis over the frames of his half-moon glasses. Francis, when he realized that Dumbledore's eyes were trained intently upon him, fidgeted nervously. 

     "Are you Francis Potter?" Dumbledore asked. 

     Francis nodded. "Yes, I am." He unconsciously fluffed his robes and smiled placidly at Dumbledore. 

     "Didn't you die when you fell off your broom?" 

     Francis' smile disappeared. He was quiet for a long moment. "It happens," he said after a while. "Very often," he added as an afterthought. "I could go into the long story of what happened, but I'll just say that I'm reality-jumping at Pandora Pott--um, Snape's orders to find a good Tom Riddle." He riffled through his pockets. "I have this letter to you from, well, you, to explain this situation." 

     The soggy mass of what paper becomes when it made prolonged contact with something very slimy was all that remained of the letter Dumbledore had written for Francis. Francis ogled it for a long moment, and then sighed. He tucked the mass of paper back into a pocket. He fiddled with his goggles as he looked upward at Dumbledore and Professor Snape. "I'll have to explain it the long way," he said. "But first . . .!" He riffled through his pockets a second time to find and bring forth his wand. He waved it around in a singlewide circle with a look of glee plastered on his face. "I've had a lot of time to think of a counter charm in my egg. Aboleo Mutatio!" 

     There were small claps of sounds as the reality-jumpers' original sizes were restored immediately. Dumbledore's charcoaled desk could not put up with the strain of holding the combined weight of Harry, Harry2, Francis, and a pink egg large enough to make a thousand omelets, and collapsed. Draco knocked Professor Snape over when he shot up so fast that the top of his head rammed into Professor Snape's jaw. Professor Snape stumbled backwards, over a hesitant little figure whom no one had noticed earlier. Cousin Quigley fell over beneath him. 

     Severus immediately descended upon Cousin Quigley. "You!" 

     "Eeep!" 

     Severus grabbed Cousin Quigley in a tight choke-hold. "You're not going anywhere!" 

     Harry, amidst the rubble of what had once been Dumbledore's desk, looked at Harry2. "I feel sick," he muttered as he pressed one hand over his upset stomach. Harry2 nodded his head in agreement as he took a few deep breaths to settle his own upset stomach. From far away, Francis had looked awful. Larger now because of his restored size, he looked like a nightmare. His robes were slimy while his hair stuck up in sticky clumps. Francis looked at the pink egg he stood next to. 

     "Who's this?" he asked as he jabbed his thumb at it. 

     "Probably Black," said Severus from where he was choking Cousin Quigley. "Fawkes ate him too." 

     Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly. He studied Francis for a long moment, and then smiled. "Please excuse me if I do not greet you with a hearty handshake and clap on the back," he said. 

     Francis shrugged. "I won't hold it against you." 

     "Now, I must admit that I am confused. When you said you were reality-jumping, I assume then you are not the Francis Potter I know." 

    Francis smiled self-consciously as he fiddled with his goggles. "I suppose not. I am Francis Potter, but the events that shaped me may differ from the events you knew your Francis Potter to go through." They stared at each other for a moment; Dumbledore studied who Francis was, and Francis tried to appear as harmless as possible since, all things considering, Dumbledore always did tend to be very powerful in every reality and was overly protective of whom he knew or felt responsible for. 

    Harry and Harry2, on the floor as they were with their swimming stomach, said nothing. Harry was content to remain still just so his stomach would stop jumping around in his ribcage. Draco squatted before them and studied their green faces intently. 

     "You two all right?" Draco asked as he reached out and pressed one hands against individual foreheads. 

     Harry2 weakly waved him away. "Go away before I puke all over your shoes." 

     Harry managed to squint his eyes and focus on his uncle, who held on to Cousin Quigley by his throat and muttered continuously of what he was going to do. He sighed and let his head roll back onto Harry2's shoulder. He watched Francis and Dumbledore out of the corner of his eye. 

     Dumbledore twisted his arms to pet Fawkes and looked at Francis over the rim of his glasses. "Well," he said. "Why don't you explain all of this to me in the kitchen over a nice snack?" Francis took out his wand and tried to clean his clothes with a cleaning charm. "Here." Dumbledore walked over to the other side of the office to a small, unnoticeable door. He opened it and entered. As they waited for Dumbledore, Professor Snape studied Severus the ghost. 

     "What, exactly, are you?" Professor Snape asked. 

     "I am exactly what you'll be if Voldemort ever gets really upset with you." 

     "A ghost." Professor Snape's words were flat, but he did not look sad. The fierceness he had been radiating since he learned that his conscience was not really his conscience faded away to reveal a person tired with life. "A ghost with curly hair." He massaged the bridge of his nose and spoke to himself. "How much worse can this get?" 

     Cousin Quigley weakly waved his hand. "The hair," he gasped, "is n-natural!" 

     Severus kicked him. "You be quiet. I've got some questions for you, _father._" 

     Professor Snape stared dryly at Cousin Quigley. He walked over and sank down in Dumbledore's chair, which had escaped the damage Dumbledore's desk had gone through. "I'm too old to go through this," he muttered as he massaged the skin between his eyes. He looked at Severus the ghost and Cousin Quigley before he looked over at Harry and Harry2. "Let me guess: both of you are the Boy Who Lived." His eyes shifted over to Draco. "And you are, most unfortunately, Draco Malfoy." 

     Draco crossed his arms before himself and returned Professor Snape's sour look with a tight-lipped frown of his own. "You make that sound as if it's a bad thing." 

     Professor Snape's eyes narrowed further. He straightened in the chair so his back was ramrod stiff and his hands were folded genteelly in his lap. "As far as I am concerned, I cannot possibly live with two Dracos and three Harrys. When are you going to leave?" 

     "As soon," said Francis from where everyone was ignoring him, "as possible." 

     Harry's hand waved weakly in the air. "Does anyone realize that Dumbledore stepped on Pandora's Box?" Harry2 nodded in agreement. 

     The looks the others gave him differed from person to person. Francis looked disbelieving, Cousin Quigley was turning blue, Severus the ghost had his full concentration on Cousin Quigley, and Professor Snape just looked puzzled. 

     "What are we going to do now?" Francis asked. 

     Cousin Quigley squirmed and tried to say something, but his breath was thoroughly cut off by the hands clasped around his throat. Dumbledore entered the room then from the door he had disappeared behind. In his arms were canary-yellow robes. "Here we are," he said as he walked over to Francis. "Hold your arms out," he told Francis. Francis obeyed, and Dumbledore cleaned them with a quick wave of his charm and a few muttered words. He dropped the robes on them. "There you are." He smiled. "If you need some privacy to change, you may do so in my quarters." He pointed at the door he had come out of. 

     Francis looked self-conscience as he walked over to the door. At it, he paused and turned around. "Severus," he said, "how is it possible for one ghost to choke another?" 

     "I do not know," Severus the ghost said without lifting his eyes to look at Francis. "How is it possible?" 

     "It isn't," Francis replied. With that, he entered Dumbledore's quarters.   
  
  
  


     Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. 

     In a world where nothing remained, something twitched. Among ashes of what had once been a dark, twisted forest, next to a pond of scummy and stinky water, something moved. 

     Matter cannot be destroyed, only changed. 

     And sometimes the most unnatural of matter is never changed either.   
  
  
  


    Severus glared down at Cousin Quigley, who grasped weakly at Severus' hand. "What did he mean by that?" Severus snarled as his grip around Cousin Quigley's throat tightened. Cousin Quigley gasped wordlessly and weakly banged the floor with his open palm. Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'm not letting up until you speak," he whispered in a dangerous voice. 

     Draco draped an arm over each of the Harrys' shoulders. "And the poor sod," he said softly to them, "can't speak until the Professor lets up on him. Kind of comes to a draw." 

     Dumbledore stepped forward and dropped a hand on Severus' shoulder. It passed right through him, but Severus still looked over his shoulder at the headmaster. "Yes?" he asked politely. 

     "Come here, please," Dumbledore said kindly. He gestured over to the chair that Professor Snape was in. "I want to see you standing next to each other." Dumbledore began to pull Severus over to Professor Snape, but stopped when he realized that Severus was dragging Cousin Quigley along rather than releasing him. Dumbledore sighed. "I can already see how very much alike you two are," he said. "Do I dare inquire as to what this man ever did to you?" 

     Severus' lips drew back in a grim, humorless smile. "Besides abandoning me on the slums of London?" he asked. "Besides leaving me in mankind's worst created hell on earth? Besides destroying my faith in mankind? Besides twisting me into something vaguely human, because to be human was to suffer?" Severus looked at Dumbledore's pale face. "I suffered and survived rape, beatings, starvation, and freezing. Need I continue?" he asked in a soft voice. 

     Another voice spoke. "Since I had to listen to you, it's your turn to listen to me: drop him." 

     Severus did not look at Professor Snape. "Why should I?" 

     Harry, Harry2, and Draco turned their heads to see Professor Snape lean forward. He propped his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers as he gazed at Severus the ghost. "Don't let a pathetic imbecile hold you back from moving on." 

     Harry looked over at his ghost of an uncle. "Grandmother Pandora," he began in a shaky voice, "told me to tell you to ask Cousin Quigley where you two met each other in the slums. She said you two knew each from the slums." The dark purple color Cousin Quigley was drained away into a chalky white. Severus' eyebrow arched elegantly at the sight of Cousin Quigley's sudden lack of color. He opened his hands and Cousin Quigley fell over. Severus slowly crossed his arms before himself and glared coldly at the ancestor. 

     "Um." Cousin Quigley's eyes rolled about in his head as he looked from Severus, to Harry, to Severus, to Professor Snape, to Harry, and then back to Severus again. He grimaced as his shoulders hunched forward. "Um." Severus' eyebrow went slowly higher, and this time, Professor Snape joined his other-reality counterpart with the intimidation routine. "Um." Cousin Quigley looked over to the Boys Who Lived and at Draco, but the looks on their faces made it clear he would not find help from them. He looked at Dumbledore, but the stormy look in his eyes made Cousin Quigley immediately look in the other direction. "Oh dear." Cousin Quigley deflated like a balloon whose air was released. "Would you believe me if I said that I didn't really want to do all of this?" 

     Severus' glare deepened. Cousin Quigley cringed at the sight of it. "No?" Cousin Quigley sighed again. "Well, if I have to tell everyone where we met at the slums, will you tell them about your godson?" 

     Severus choked and attracted the interest from the others immediately. "Why I--that is--I won't--" He made a sound much like a whistling tea pot as he clenched his hands tightly into fists. "_There will be no negotiations!_" he snarled viciously. The others flinched back at the sound of his voice. The only ones who were not affected were Cousin Quigley, who merely sighed, and Professor Snape, who was probably immune to his own nastiness. 

     "Very well then." Cousin Quigley sniffled as he climbed to his feet. He looked out of sorts as he rocked back and forth unsteadily on his feet. "I never completely abandoned you," he said to Severus as he studied the floor intently. "I did help you further your ability to read." He sighed. "I wanted to teach you, but someone else helped you before me." He shuffled his feet nervously as Severus stared at him with swiftly dawning realization. 

     "You were the beggar who traded reading lessons for whiskey," Severus said in dismay. His hands fell slack to his side. "Y-you was the one I was with when Voldemort attacked my troop of gutter rats!" 

     Cousin Quigley nodded guiltily. "Yes, that was me." 

     Severus gritted his teeth. "What was the idea behind dumping me in the slums to begin with? To protect the Snape legacy? What of all the other Professor Snapes that we have met? Are they all abandoned children from the past as well?" 

     Cousin Quigley glanced to the side. Next to the door that Severus, Harry, and Draco had left through on their way to find Dumbledore, was Pandora's Box. Harry remembered that he hadn't seen Severus carrying it after Harry2 and Fawkes went one-on-one. 

     "I thought it broke!" Harry whispered to Harry2. 

     "It couldn't." They looked at Cousin Quigley as he walked over to the desk. He stopped at some pointed shards of silver. "It was the Mirror of Rebounds that was stepped upon." 

     The door on the other end of the room opened and Francis hurried through it. "Back up there," he said. "What do you mean the Mirror of Rebounds got destroyed?" His hair was still gunked up and he had pushed his goggles down around his neck while his glasses were on top of his head. He only wore the trousers of the robes Dumbledore had given him, but he clutched the shirt and heavy over robe in one hand and his wand in the other. Across his abdomen was the long, smooth scar that had once been the wound that nearly took his life. "These walls are paper-thin," Francis said to no one in particular. "I can hear everything clearly." He squinted at the others as he attempted to clean his hair with a charm. "Is there any way the Mirror of Rebounds can be repaired?" 

     Cousin Quigley bent over and picked up one shard of glass. He continued to address Harry and Harry2. "The reason why you reacted against the released power as you usually did when Pandora's Box opened was because the Mirror of Rebounds stored the power. When Dumbledore stepped on it, that stored power was released." He paled suddenly and looked at Professor Snape and Dumbledore. "You two must be very puzzled," he said. 

     "Oh, think nothing of it." Dumbledore smiled tightly at Cousin Quigley. Professor Snape shrugged. 

     "Yes. We are hardly bothered with the fact that we don't know what is going, what to expect, or even if we should trust you all or not." 

     "We'll explain later," Francis told them without looking at them. He secured his wand between his knees long enough to pull the shirt over his head. "Right now, I don't want this conversation to lose track." He waved his wand vaguely at Cousin Quigley's direction. "You seem to be acting a little less . . ." Francis searched for a polite word for pathetic, " . . . dismal than usual." 

     " 'Tis all Uncle Hector's fault," Cousin Quigley said with a shadow of a pout. "I haven't had anything to drink but water and vinegar since last week." 

     Francis' eyes sharpened. "And why would you need water and vinegar any more than you would need the alcohol?" 

     Cousin Quigley shuffled his feet again and refused to look Francis in the eyes. He bent over and began to pick up the mirror's pieces. "I have always found it strange," said Francis thoughtfully, "that a ghost like yourself would need substance." Cousin Quigley's shoulders tensed as he grasped one particularly sharp shard of glass. His hand closed tight around it. "Very strange indeed," Francis whispered to himself. "And yet," his volume rose to normal speaking levels, "you are seem to be solid and real at times. I know you to be a ghost, and you have an astonishing ability to understand what is going on even when you are drunk." Francis pulled Dumbledore's over robe on and resumed his earlier attempt at cleaning his hair. "You acted as if the Snape ancestral portraits still existed, though they can't when their original frames are destroyed. You have little problem following us through reality through reality through reality. Lastly, you look astonishing well for someone who drank himself into his grave. I can hardly see any harsh affects of so much alcohol." 

     Harry looked at Cousin Quigley as the man trembled. He remembered how Cousin Quigley had looked older at one time, with his sallow skin and stringy-gray hair, versus the podgy, younger appearance of now. Harry slowly stood up, but had to pause while still bent half-over in order to keep his stomach from expelling its contents. "Cousin Quigley," he said, "why did Pandora always refer to you in present tense?" 

     Blood dripped down Cousin Quigley's hands to the floor. The sound of each droplet of blood hitting the stone floor sounded like strikes of metal against metal in the quiet room. Cousin Quigley slowly straightened and looked over at Severus. His body trembled and his eyes watered up with tears as he stared for a long time at his son. At Cousin Quigley's feet, silver shards and wooden splinters trembled. "I'm s-sorry," he said finally. His jaw trembled. "I never d-did mean t-to hurt you. I-I tried." He shrugged clumsily. "Any r-reason I w-would try to give you w-would never justify what I did. N-never. It wouldn't make you my little b-boy again, it won't bring back my White Rabbit, i-it won't undo anything that has happened. I do wh-what I have to d-do." Cousin Quigley licked his lips as something changed in his eyes. Regret and sorrow took a slight turn into bitter resentment. "I never had a choice." 

     "We all have choices," Severus snarled softly. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and gritted his teeth. "We all have choices, to agree or disagree. If you made a mistake, it is all your fault because you could have chosen differently." 

     Cousin Quigley hissed. Uncharacteristic anger flashed across his face. "But I _never_ had a choice. Not from the day I was born." He drew into himself. "I saw the destruction of the Snape family." He flung his arms wide and nearly smacked Francis in the nose with the back of his hand. "And the destruction of the Snape family fell with the entire world itself. I never stopped what I could see. I was made to see it even if I didn't want to. My choices were always made for me. I saw it all before it happened." His anger disappeared and he deflated once more. Any strength Cousin Quigley might have shown disappeared until he was his old, normal self of hunched shoulders and regret. "Voldemort destroyed the Snapes, and then he destroyed the world. For the want of a horseshoe, the entire kingdom was lost. For the want of a family, the world was lost." 

     Behind Cousin Quigley, the shards of glass and splinters of wood were drawn to one another like magnets. They flew together into a jumble of broken pieces that stuck to one another. "I try," Cousin Quigley said softly, "and I try, but I never really seem to get anywhere." He dropped the shard of silver glass, which flew to join the others. Cousin Quigley turned about and held his bleeding hand over the pile. The blood dripped onto it. "I never had a choice," he repeated quietly. "I could never move beyond seeing that destruction. The world is heading in that direction, and I do not have the means or the makeup to change the path. I could never run from the Mirror of Rebounds, because there were always the visions, always the knowledge of what would be. I could never escape the slaughter, the misery, or the pain. The Mirror of Rebounds reached across space to me, because I was never strong enough to block out its call." 

     Draco stirred from where he watched the blood drip off Cousin Quigley's hand. "Couldn't you have told anyone?" he asked. Cousin Quigley lifted one shoulder in a listless shrug. 

     "No one ever believed," he said. "I was always the pathetic, degenerative, flighty, embarrassment of the Snape family. They said it was impossible that the Mirror of Rebounds could show the future. They said I was just a selfish little boy looking for attention, that I was cheap and shamed the family as such." Cousin Quigley looked crestfallen. "I always winded up shaming the family no matter what I did. It's not as if I asked to be placed in Hufflepuff. For years I had to wonder what the point of everything was, and so I decided that what would be would be, for who was I to argue? I was never important or meant to be great." 

     He opened his cut hand to reveal that gash that ran across his palm. He pressed his other hand over it to still the flow of blood. "I'm weak; I'll be the first to admit that. I don't think I'm a coward, but I suppose I am on many levels. And if I had told you all that you would have to travel through different realities in search of a good Tom Riddle, someone who would save us from Voldemort, would you have believe me?" 

     The blank stares the others gave him (or glare, in the case of Severus the ghost) were enough to clearly say that no, they would not have believed him. "Well," said Francis helpfully, "you did help dig your own grave through your drinking and behavior. It's not as if you tried to make yourself believable or trusting." 

     Cousin Quigley looked down at the Mirror of Rebounds. "I hate this thing," he said. "But what can I do? I'm trapped as effectively as Pandora." He tried to glare menacingly at it, but Cousin Quigley and aggression did not communicate and thusly translate on the same level, much less exist in the same proverbial universe together. "Hyacinthe the Druid created the Mirror of Rebounds from the Universe. He used all four physical elements, and all four properties of existence. It was supposed to direct people in the survival of the Universe. And then along came me, a convenient little puppet for it to direct going-ons, and then along came Harry, the great gift of so many circumstances built on top of one another!" 

     Cousin Quigley tried to smile brightly at Harry, but the look Harry gave him wilted the smile away. He hunched over again and jammed his hands into his suit's pockets. "I tried," he said again. 

     The Mirror of Rebounds snapped together. The pieces tightened as they pressed forward to the center. A mighty crack resonated through the room as pieces were absorbed together and fitted with their counterparts in a rapid mish-mash of jigsaw puzzles that were free-falling into place. In just a few moments, the Mirror of Rebounds sat upon the floor once more, whole again. It pivoted wildly on its hinges, circling so quickly that it was a dark blur. "Severus?" He looked over his shoulder at his son. "Your real name was Dominic." 

     Severus drew away from Cousin Quigley. "That is my middle name." 

     "I know. I asked Pandora if she would give it to you." He sighed. "She did. She always had a slightly better understanding of the situation than other people. And if you ever see me in a bar somewhere in New Mexico, I don't know you." He held one hand up. "I _really_ don't know you." With that, Cousin Quigley leaned close to the pivoting Mirror of Rebounds, and his form was sucked into the mirror like a Venus Fly trap closing around an insect. The mirror slowly spun to a halt. 

     Severus gritted his teeth. "He ran away again. Without answering a single question." 

     "Hmmm." Francis pulled his goggles up and over his ears to secure them on the top of his head. "He has a talent for evading questions. For all that he said, he didn't really tell us that much." 

    _ All in due time. _Everyone jumped at the wispy sound of Cousin Quigley's voice. It floated insubstantially in the air. _There's only so much I can reveal without upsetting the Universe. Oh, and Francis?_

     Francis peered around. "Yes?" 

     _The Mirror of Rebounds contains all that had been. The portraits can and did survive. Their existence depended upon the Mirror of Rebounds because a remnant of their past frames existed within._ Cousin Quigley's voice faded away. Harry thought he saw Edwina's (or perhaps it was Anastasia's) face flash quickly across the surface of the Mirror of Rebounds. Her lips were drawn back in a happy smile and her eyes twinkled. As quickly as she had been seen, she was gone. 

     Professor Snape stirred in Dumbledore's chair. "Now will someone explain what's going on?" he asked.   
  
  
  


**author's notes:** *Minni stands up on a chair* I shall now recite a poem from Mother Goose . . .  
  
_ For the want of the nail, the shoe was lost.  
For the want of the shoe, the horse was lost.  
For the want of the horse, the message was lost.  
For the want of the message, the battle was lost.  
For the want of the battle, the war was lost.  
For the want of the war, the kingdom was lost.  
And all for the want of a nail!  
  
_ This was the poem that Cousin Qugiley recited a pieace of as he tried to explain why it was important that the Snapes survived. That just goes to show you how important all the little details are.   
_Aboleo Mutatio_ translated means Abolish Transformation.  
**Ariana Deralte:** Why exactly did Uncle Snape decide to play his own conscience? Well, would _you_ listen to someone if that someone was a miniature you who popped up on the end of your nose and decided to boss you around?   
**Frankie the Wonder Wiener Dog:** I do hope your keyboard is all right.  



	17. Chapter 17

     "Mom said," Harry2 began slowly, speaking for the first time since the fiasco began, "she said something about Cousin Quigley." He looked at Harry for confirmation. Harry nodded. 

     "She said that Cousin Quigley was alive." They both looked at Francis. "Any idea as to how that's possible?" Harry asked. 

     Francis shrugged. "Not unless Cousin Quigley is willing to explain." The room remained silent. Francis turned to Dumbledore. "If I explained what happened and what lead to this point, would you write a letter explaining that we really are who we really are, just not exactly the same persons as everyone else, though?" 

     Dumbledore looked puzzled. "I suppose. But first . . ." He took Harry2's glasses, magically duplicated it, and then gave the copy to Harry. "I believe you would need these," he said cheerfully. 

     They went together to the kitchen for tea through a secret passage from Dumbledore's office to the kitchen so they did not want to alert the rest of Hogwarts of the unusual visitors. Everyone refrained from mentions of the convenience of midnight snacks. Upon reaching the kitchen, Dobby instantly gathered together a small army of kitchen elves in preparing a light snack for the multiple people. Dobby did not ask why there was another Harry with Harry, or how there came to be a ghost of Professor Snape, but only did what he had been asked to do. 

     The light snack would have been better termed as a feast, but since the reality jumpers had not eaten anything since leaving the reality where Hermione's boyfriend was Neville Longbottom or, in Harry's and Harry2's case, had not eaten since being in Marcia's kitchen, they did not complain about the large amount of food. 

     Over the dinner they munched on, Francis explained to Dumbledore and Professor Snape of what was going on. He left out the unnecessary information--such as what they saw behind closed doors. It cut down a great deal of retelling. While Dumbledore set to writing that letter to other Dumbledores and Professor Snape studied his ghostly self, Francis decided to tabulate all the known information of Cousin Quigley. 

     He had Winky fetch him a piece of paper and a quill. "Let's see." He chewed thoughtfully on the end of his quill before he began writing. "As far as any of us knows, Cousin Quigley has no known day of death. He married an Indian and had a son whom he named Dominic, which he then put into the future to preserve the Snape family." He looked up from his writing. "I'd also say that Cousin Quigley is very proficient in the use of the Mirror of Rebounds." 

     Severus snorted. "If what he says is true, then _I'd_ say the Mirror of Rebounds in proficient in the use of Cousin Quigley." 

     Francis thought about that. "That works too," he said as he wrote it down. 

     Harry picked up his head from where it had been resting against his folded arms over the table top. "The Bloody Baron said that Cousin Quigley was the most powerful family member since the creator of the Mirror of Rebounds. At least, at the time that Cousin Quigley was alive, now that I think of it. I don't know about, well, myself or Pandora or other Snapes who came after him." 

     Francis wrote that down. "And we know that he's doing this to save the Universe." 

     "And Grandmother has a soft spot for Cousin Quigley." 

     Francis nodded. "I noticed that as well. Usually Pandora did not put up with such nonsensical behavior from anyone, but she always made an exception for the twins and Cousin Quigley." 

     Harry2 leaned forward. He absently traced the outline of his tattoo with one finger. "Are Cousin Quigley and the Bloody Baron in league with one another?" he asked. Francis looked up from his writing with a scrunched look on his face as Severus appeared beside Harry2. 

     "Why do you ask?" Severus asked. 

     Francis waved him quiet with his quill. "Because we've always seen the Bloody Baron with Cousin Quigley, and the Bloody Baron doesn't seem to be confused or puzzled about this entire matter." 

     "It makes you wonder," Harry2 said. Francis thoughtfully tapped his chin with the end of his quill. 

     "Yes," he said softly. "It does make a body wonder." 

     Professor Snape shook his head as he blew at his cup of hot tea. "I find it difficult to believe that Harry Potter would be related to so many different," he pulled his lip back in a sneer, "famous people." He looked at Harry2. "Or is a fire demon." He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, "How convenient." He lifted the tea cup to his lips and sipped. Harry2's tattoo blinked at him and he choked on his tea in surprise. 

     After what Professor Snape said, Harry wondered if it was safer to mention what he learned of Pandora's mother at some later time, or if there would be a calm enough later time after they began reality-jumping again. 

     Francis bent over his writing. "And it seems that Cousin Quigley has also been forced into giving up drink, and the Mirror of Rebounds has a mind of its own. Am I missing anything?" 

     Harry2 waved his hand. "This is completely out of the subject," he said, "but I'm a bit curious as to what we are going to do about Sirius. We can't leave him here because we aren't probably going to come back." 

     At the sound of that, Professor Snape brightened considerably. "How soon will you be leaving?" he asked in a purring voice. 

     Severus the ghost did not speak with a purring voice. His was a low growl in contrast. "As soon as possible." He looked at Francis. "What are we going to do with Sirius?" 

     Francis continued to write for a moment until he finished. Then he looked up and answered. "I was going to shrink him, and then place him in a pocket or something with a cushioning spell to protect him against breaking prematurely." 

     Draco stirred from where he had been leaning tiredly against Harry's shoulder. "What was the point of even being in an egg anyway?" he asked. 

     "I," said Francis loftily, "would be making an unscientific observation at this point, due to having so little information." 

     Severus disappeared from Harry's side to appear at Francis'. "That has never stopped you before," he pointed out. 

     "But I was never before inside an egg that a male phoenix laid." 

     Everyone fell silent at that as they once more pondered how _that _came to be. 

     Draco sat upright suddenly. "Maybe," he said brightly, "maybe phoenixes are like those kind of fish that change sexes in order to breed!" He ignored the looks he received as he settled against Harry's shoulder again. 

     "I don't think so," Severus said darkly. 

     Dumbledore stood up. "It is quite late," he said. "Might I offer you all a room to stay in for the evening?" He looked at Harry and Draco. "Sleep would do all of you some good. The would be far away from other occupants, and you may leave whenever you feel well-rested enough to." 

     Francis shrugged. "I'd say something here about hating to impose." He too looked at Draco and Harry. "But we do need to get some sleep before we start jumping again. None of us have had any real rest since we entered Draco's reality." 

     Dumbledore nodded and turned around. "Come," he said. The others followed after him. They went back to Dumbledore's office through the secret passage. Francis shrunk the large pink egg until it was about the size of a robin's egg. He carefully wrapped several cushioning charms around it, and then tucked it into the same pocket that securely held Dumbledore's letter. After that was done, he grabbed Pandora's Box. Through default, Draco was the one who had the honor to carry the Mirror of Rebounds. No one else wanted to carry it, much less touch it. From there, they entered another secret passage. 

     "Most of the castle occupancy are in the Houses, so there are rooms that are in the very center of the castle have not seen a single living being for many, many years," Dumbledore explained. He held a small ball of light in his hands to cast illumination in the dusty passageway. 

     He led them to a far-off room that contained two very large poster beds, three chairs around a single table, and a vanity table. He cleaned the dust and cobwebs up with a single wave his wand. He turned to the others with a small smile. "Have a safe trip," he said. "And I do hope you find a good Tom Riddle. I'm sure there is one out there, somewhere." 

     "Thank you, Dumbledore," Francis replied. "It never fails me how, in every reality, you always turn out the same." 

     "I'll try not to change," Dumbledore said solemnly, though the laughter in his eyes belied the tone of his voice. He left the little ball of light on the vanity table in the room and left through the passageway they had come through. The paneling in the wall closed behind him. 

     "Who sleeps in what bed?" Severus asked as he looked around. 

     Draco perked up instantly. 

     At the sight of Draco's eagerness, Harry and Harry2 went pale. "You," said Harry2 as he pointed at Draco, "can sleep with Francis." Harry nodded in agreement. 

     "We'll take one bed," said Harry, "and you and Francis can take the other." 

     Draco wilted instantly. He looked at the Harrys with big, doleful eyes. The Harrys crossed their arms before themselves. From the way their heads tilted back and their shoulders straightened, it was obvious they had no intention whatsoever of sharing the same bed with Draco. 

     Draco sighed and looked at Francis, who was removing his over robes. "Just for the record," said Francis as he carefully folded them and then drooped them over the back of a chair, "due to some unpleasant experiences in other realities--" 

     "You only saw them," Harry muttered darkly under his breath. Francis ignored him. 

     "--I would greatly appreciate it if you would stay to your own side of the bed. If you hog the covers, that's fine. I'm well-used to Pandora doing that." 

     Draco shrugged. "All right," he said firmly as he sat down on one of the beds. "I've been celibate for a few years. I can stand it for another night or two." He ignored everyone as he tugged his boots off and dropped his sword and scabbard next to them on the floor. He stretched out over the surface of the bed and covered his eyes with one arm. 

     Francis moved over to the bed and pulled back the covers. Harry pulled his slightly-large over robes off and folded them next to Francis' over robes. Harry2 did not bother undressing. They both slipped under the covers. The light on the vanity table faded out. Then only sound that filled the room was the breathing from four different persons. Severus was slightly illuminating in the dark, but he was quiet. 

     "Francis?" In the darkness, Harry's voice seemed small and child-like. 

     "Hmmm?" 

     "I had another dream earlier today. About Pandora." 

     The rustling of covers from the other side told Harry that Francis was pushing them back. "Tell me." His voice was wistful and distant. 

     "She was brushing her hair on this boulder next to the sea. I said that Grandfather Severus said her mother used to brush her hair all the time, and I asked her why. She said her mother was one of the . . ." Harry tried to remember how to pronounce Gwragedd Annwn, but found he couldn't. "One of the Lake Maidens." 

     There was a slight pause before Francis asked, "Do you mean the Gwragedd Annwn?" 

     "Yeah! Are they like mermaids?" 

     Francis sighed. "The Gwragedd Annwn, also known as the Lake Maidens, aren't exactly mermaids. They're a water folk from Welsh legends with very powerful healing abilities. Most water-folk are selfish, or vain, or mischievous, but the Lake Maidens weren't. They were said to be serene and gentle, with a very strong inner strength." 

     "James was like that," Severus whispered. In the dark, eyes shifted to look at him. He was floating in mid-air with his legs crossed beneath him and his arms crossed before his chest. His head was bowed. He said nothing more. Harry burrowed deeper under the covers and drifted into a dreamless state. 

     In the darkness, Severus remained awake. Was it possible for an actual ghost to be plagued by the ghosts of the past? He wasn't so sure any more. Draco was the one who stayed awake the longest. 

     He lifted his head off the pillow and looked over at Severus. "Professor," he whispered, "just out of curiosity, who_ is _your godson?" Severus favored him with a scathing glare. "I swear upon the House of Slytherin that I won't tell anyone." 

     Severus snorted. "You're swearing an oath of trust upon the House that no one ever trusted?" 

     "I can see the irony," Draco replied, "but really, you can trust me." 

     Severus shook his head with a sad little smile on his lips. "I won't be able to get rid of you until you know, won't I?" 

     "Nope." 

     Severus gave him a mirthless smile. "Too bad. I have got all of eternity to wait you out." 

     Draco rolled his eyes and flipped over.   
  
  
  


     "All righty now." Francis tipped the Mirror of Rebounds over on its side once more. He paused a moment to study its surface. Gone was the crack that had appeared across the glass' surface when Severus looked into the mirror only to have Voldemort look back at him. He stood up and turned to Severus. "We know that you're Cousin Quigley's son, which would explain greatly why you could use the Mirror of Rebounds. But when you saw Voldemort, are you sure it was across Time?" Severus gave him a sour look, but said nothing. 

     Harry fiddled with the buttons of his over robes. "I don't get it," he said. "What do you mean across Time?" 

     "Well, Cousin Quigley could see the future as well as the past. Couldn't the Mirror of Rebounds also see the present as well? If so, did this mean Severus watch the things as it happened or would happen, rather than after it happened?" 

     Severus turned his back to Francis. "How am I supposed to know?" he asked. "The only time Pandora ever said anything about the Mirror of Rebounds was when she gave it to me, and James mentioned it once, but he said that the Mirror of Rebounds was the most painful artifact that the entire Snape family owned." 

     He sighed and seated himself in mid-air next to Pandora's Box. "And that's another mystery all together." He pointed at it. "I don't know if Pandora just created it on the spot, or she used it to help strip Voldemort's power. Francis," he looked at the blonde man, "shouldn't we question the virtue of the items we use?" 

     Francis shook his head. "A little too late for that," he said. "We should have questioned the virtue of these items before we started reality-jumping." 

     Harry waved his hand. "Grandmother said that the power in her box was tainted." 

     Francis looked at Harry. "And you always react to the power that's used." He reached out and gently traced Harry's scar with one finger. Harry's scar itched from the contact. "Voldemort was corrupt, and when Pandora said the power was tainted, perhaps she meant the same thing. You may just be reacting to the corruption in the power." 

     He turned back to the Mirror of Rebounds. "Are we ready to jump?" he asked cheerfully. There was a chorus of No's behind his back. He glared at the uneager reality-jumpers. "We're never going to get anywhere with that attitude," he said. He smiled. "Perk up! There may be something interesting in the next realities!" 

     Harry shrugged. "Well, if I'm lucky, I may just decide to be a virgin until I marry." 

     Draco grinned at him. "Harry, there are more virginities than just one." 

     Harry's face turned red as Severus appeared before the Mirror of Rebounds and smacked it with his hand a little harder than was necessary. The lid of Pandora's Box flew off and away they went into the Mirror of Rebounds. 

     As it spun but did not disappear, Cousin Quigley appeared beside it. His nose was runny and his eyes were red from crying. He sighed as the Bloody Baron materialized behind him. "Is it still broken?" the Bloody Baron asked as he peered at the Mirror of Rebounds with an expression of uncertainty. 

     Cousin Quigley shrugged. "I don't know." He nudged it with his foot. With the sound like a spring being wound up, the Mirror of Rebounds twisted as if it were made from rubber, and then popped into nothingness like a balloon that exploded. "That should put them on the right path after the shrinking charm threw them off balance," he said.   
  
  
  


     The first thing, or rather person, that Harry noticed when he came through the Mirror of Rebounds was a woman with brilliant red hair. She effortlessly hauled Harry to his feet and slammed him against the wall the moment he managed to regain his senses. Her hand tightened around the base of his throat. Harry stared disbelieving down the length of her arm--_Blimey! That thing's got more muscle than my thigh_!--and then up into the stormy eyes of Ginny Weasley. 

     Harry smiled nervously. "Hello, Ginny," he said. She smiled at him, though it was more of a show of teeth than a smile. 

     "Hello, _Harry_," she said. "Fancy meeting you here after you died two years ago, leaving me eight months pregnant." Harry's jaw would have dropped somewhere in the vicinity of his knees if Ginny's arm had not been in the way. Ginny rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Of course, you look much younger than the Harry I married, so maybe you're an illusion." She released him. Harry slid down the wall to the floor. He rubbed his sore collarbone and watched Ginny take two large strides to a part of the room where a heavy staff of oak sat. She picked it up and twirled it around in her hand. "Or maybe," she said darkly, "maybe you're a spy sent here by the Queen Snake Bitch." 

     Harry choked. "Not again," he muttered as the others came out of the Mirror of Rebounds.   
  
  
  


     After Ginny knocked Draco out, nearly broke her staff over Harry2's head in an attack, and fell through Severus, she realized that she did not recognize Francis. 

     "You don't look dangerous," she said as she loomed over him. 

     Francis flinched and covered his head with his arms. He smiled nervously up at her. "I try not to be. We're really not who you think we are. We're from a different reality. Here." He moved cautiously so he would not alarm her, and reached into his pocket to give her Dumbledore's letter. "This will explain the short of the long of it." Ginny frowned at them and carefully backed out of their reach. She opened up the parchment and swiftly scanned the written content. 

     "All right." She rolled up the parchment and handed it back to Francis. "So you're from another reality looking for a good Tom Riddle. You'll not find one here. Voldemort and Harry fought for eight days before they killed themselves, and Voldemort went and left a woman he Transfigured from a snake in charge." She glared at the others. "Professor Snape was a traitor through and through; he let the Death Eaters through Hogwarts' boundaries and killed Dumbledore when his back was turned." She turned a smoldering brown eye on Draco, who had come to while she read the letter "And you, you slime-sucking brown-nosing Death Eater from the nether regions of a troll, you killed my brother!" 

     Draco pressed his hands over his head. "She's an Amazon," he muttered darkly to himself without any attention to his surroundings whatsoever. "A damn Amazon!" 

     Harry2 prodded the gigantic egg that was beginning to form at his hair line. "She can swing a stick better than you can swing a sword," he said pointedly. Ginny crossed her arms and glared down at them. He gracefully stood and gazed into Ginny's eyes. She softened immediately. 

     Severus appeared beside the Mirror of Rebounds. "I know where this is going," he muttered darkly as he nudged it. The Mirror of Rebounds pivoted about on its axis and power exploded from Pandora's Box. The power shoved the wincing Harrys, Francis, Draco, and Severus into the Mirror of Rebounds. The top of Pandora's Box flipped over to shut it, and then that too was sucked into the Mirror of Rebounds. 

     Ginny stared at shock at the spaces everyone had occupied. She sniffed. "How rude." A small cloud of dark green and baby-blue colors hovered near-by. She glared at it. "Well, make yourself useful," she told it. 

     The colors pulsated before they leaked out of the cracks in the wall and flew off into the distance to engulf this reality's Nagini. 

     Ginny gazed at the pivoting Mirror of Rebounds. A shimmering figure appeared beside it. The Bloody Baron glared down at it. "I thought you said it was supposed to be working now," he snarled. 

     Cousin Quigley popped into sight on the other side of the Mirror of Rebounds. "I said it should work," he said with a wheedling voice. He poked the Mirror of Rebounds and it snapped out of existence abruptly. The Bloody Baron and Cousin Quigley blinked. 

     "Was that supposed to happen?" the Bloody Baron asked. 

     Cousin Quigley shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I should go back into the past and ask Hyacinthe." He twisted around to smile brightly at Ginny. "I know you're surprised, and I know that you really don't know what's going on, but that's all right. You see, when Harry finally resolves this matter, then none of this will have happened, and you--in this form--will not have existed. I will not waste the time explaining all of this to you, and you can go about on your life until the past paths of this reality change, and you will cease to exist." He and the Bloody Baron disappeared. 

     "Well, that's fine," Ginny muttered. "It doesn't help me in the mean time though." She went off to throw knives at the gigantic poster she had of Draco Malfoy.   
  
  
  


     They jumped from reality to reality. They encountered some very evident things on their jumps, significant in difference with the other realities, but so much more the same because of it. One of the major differences in these realities that Harry was no longer student. Instead, he was often an instructor-whether for Quidditch or for Defense Against Dark Arts--so he was now a teacher having an affair with another teacher, rather than a student having an affair with a teacher. 

     "I don't know about you four," Francis told his reality-jumping partners, "but I, for one, feel much more relieved for Harry's sake." 

     Harry and Harry2 glared at him from where they were sitting on top of the convulsing-with-anger Draco. 

     "I'LL KILL HIM FOR TOUCHING HIM!" 

     Severus looked as if he wanted to give Draco a well-aimed kick. "That was me you just shoved out the Astronomy Tower window," he snarled. 

     Draco heaved up against the combined weight of Harry and Harry2, and nearly unseated them in the process. "LEMMEE AT HIM!" 

     Harry2 looked imploringly at Francis. "Can I hit him?" he asked. 

     Harry nodded. "Yeah. Can he?" 

     Francis shook his head as he propped the Mirror of Rebounds into the usual reality-jumping position. "No. I just want to get out of here before Severus Snape finally gets away from the squid."   
  
  
  


     "Are you done yet?" 

     Harry2 looked up from where he was putting out Harry's smoldering hair. He looked away from Severus. "This reality's Harry is very jumpy," he said in explanation. "But I suppose he would be more less jumpy if you hadn't appeared half-way out of the wall and told them about the wonders of silencing spells." 

     Severus threw his hands wide. "Everyone could hear those two making it on!" 

     Francis sighed from where he was seated on a sulking Draco. "What goes on behind closed doors is none of our business," he said sagely. Everyone glared at him. "What?" 

     "_You,_" Harry pointed at his great-grandfather, "were the one who opened the closed door!" 

     "_I_ thought someone was dying," Francis said defensively. "It certainly sounded like it!"   
  
  
  


     Of all the shades of colors that Severus turned, Harry had to admit the deep purple he was now was something he was quite sure he had never seen his uncle turn before. Francis did not notice, since he was currently reading the papers that proved Professor Snape's paternity to Harry Potter. 

     "So, Snape is your father?" Harry2 asked the current reality's Harry, who nodded sheepishly in return. 

     "He's my uncle," said Harry. "I can understand." He pointed at Harry2. "And his mother's a demon." He pointed at Francis. "And he's supposedly dead. So I guess it all works out for the best in the end though." 

     This reality's Harry shrugged. "I guess," he said. He brightened up. "Hey, if you guys don't mind staying, why don't we all play some Quidditch? Dad never wants to play and he's about as graceful on a broom as, well, I can't think of anything as clumsy as he is, but it's pretty bad." 

     "At least," muttered Francis from where he was reading the paper, "this Harry isn't having an affair with his own father." 

     Severus made a sound very similar to a whistling tea kettle. In a purple blur, he kick-started the Mirror of Rebounds, grabbed Francis by the back of his robes, and tossed him into the blur before Francis could so much as squeak in protest. The paper Francis had been reading before he was abruptly tossed out of reality fluttered to the floor. Severus loomed over the two Harrys and Draco. "_Whose next_?" he hissed dangerously. 

     "Please." Harry2 turned away from Severus and walked over to the Mirror of Rebounds. "I have some dignity." He stepped close to the Mirror of Rebounds and was sucked into it. Harry gulped at the dark look on Severus' face, and edged away from him. 

     "Another time," he told this reality's Harry weakly before he jumped into the Mirror of Rebounds.   
  
  
  


     There was a lot more violence and attacks involved in this round of reality-jumping than ever before. With Voldemort rise in power, fear overrode a great deal of rationality. People panicked at the sight of anything that was remotely suspicious. The students and teachers were battle-worn veterans whose motto was, "Kill first; search body for ID at a later time." The Harry Potters grew in strength and magical prowess in every new reality, and each one became more twitchy and foolhardy than the last. 

     It finally got the point where Francis, sick and tired of constantly being run over in someone's haste to attack Draco or one of the Harrys, tied a white handkerchief to his wand and waved it everywhere he went, like a creeping soldier on the lookout for the enemy he was carrying a message to. 

     "You look ridiculous," Severus told Francis as he cautiously peeked around the corner. 

     "I'm trying to stay alive here," Francis hissed angrily. 

     Severus sniffed. "Sure, rub it in. It's not as if I wanted to be dead." He drifted over to where Draco had been firmly told to sit. Something heavy slammed against the wall down the hallway, and Harry and Harry2 came running down it. 

     "No good Tom Riddle here!" Harry2 yelled as he ducked a stray hex thrown at him by an upset McGonagall from this reality. 

     Francis sighed. "What took you two so long?" he asked as they sprinted past him and tripped over each other to grab the Mirror of Rebounds first. 

     "Harry," said Harry2, "was accosted in the men's bathroom again." 

     "Harry!" Severus said with a disapproving frown, "what have I told you about playing around when we're trying to find someone important?" 

     Harry snarled at him. "It wasn't my fault!" he said as he pushed the Mirror of Rebounds over. It spun and they were sucked into it once more after the lid of Pandora's Box flew open.   
  
  
  


     "Now where are we?" Francis, the first out of the Mirror of Rebounds, looked around. The others followed soon after him. They were in one of Hogwarts' hallways. 

     "Let's go look around," Draco said. 

     Harry2 grabbed him. "After you attacked a naked Professor Snape?" 

     Draco pouted. "He was making out with you on his potions worktable!" 

     "Thanks to you," Harry2 continued without listening to Draco, "I am now scared for life. You are staying with me so I can smack you if you get out of line." 

     "We are staying together," Francis said. 

     A little figure appeared behind them with a smoldering tray in her hands. "All right! Harry! You're back!" 

     They whirled around to see Marcia. She wore her oversized apron, oven mitts on both her hands that came up to her elbows, and held a tray with flat black pieces of charcoal. She grinned at him. "You're just in time to try my brownies!" She thrust her tray of charcoal forward for them to see. They stared at the brownies with no small amount of misgivings. 

     "Mom." Harry2 tried to find something tactful to say. "We just brushed our teeth," he said finally. Her eyebrows rose up above the rounded curve of her mirrored glasses. "You said that I can't have sweets after brushing my teeth." 

     Francis, seeing an escape when it was presented, nodded his head vigorously. 

     Severus leaned over to peer closer at the brownies. "Are you trying to poison us?" he asked as he picked one up. Marcia pouted. 

     She turned to Harry2. "Where've you been?" she asked. "Do you realize that in the four years that you've been gone, everyone's been blaming me for all the bad stuff that's been going on around here? They blame me for everyone from your disappearing, to What-His-Name's revival and violence and trying to take over the world again, to the release of the Wild Hunt!" 

     "But mom." Harry2 stared at Marcia blankly. "Releasing the Wild Hunt is all your fault." 

     "No it's not. It's Ron's." 

     "But mom." Everyone could see by now that Harry2 was used to arguing with his mother over this point. "You told Ron that if he didn't unleash the Wild Hunt, then Voldemort would kill me." 

     Marcia looked genuinely puzzled for being accused of releasing the Wild Hunt. "I didn't make him do it though." 

     Harry2 sighed and spoke very slowly, as if Marcia was a little girl. "But mom, you said, that if Ron didn't unleash the Wild Hunt, then Voldemort would kill me. In essence, you made it sound that if Ron did not unleash the Wild Hunt, then I would be killed, and it would be all his fault, because he did not unleash the Wild Hunt." 

     "But he did, and so it_ is _his fault." 

     "Because you made Ron do it. It's actually all your fault that the Wild Hunt is now roaming the world, with the dogs chasing sinners every night to drag them off to hell! They were even chasing Professor Snape until Dumbledore rescued him!" 

     Marcia smiled smugly. "Yeah, that was kind of neat to watch." The smile disappeared. "But I didn't release them. Ron did. It's his fault, not mine." 

     Harry2 sighed and threw his arms up in the air. "I give up," he said. 

     Draco moved forward to stand before Marcia. She poked at one of her brownies listlessly for a moment before she craned her neck to look up at him. "Are you the one with Lupin?" Draco asked. 

     "Yeeesss . . ." Marcia's word was drawn out long and uncertain. She studied Draco intently for a moment. "Who are you?" she asked finally. Draco grinned mischievously and threw his arm around Harry2's shoulders. Both Harry2 and Marcia tensed. 

     "I'm Harry's husband!" Draco declared proudly. 

     Marcia's normally open and cheerful changed swiftly into something that was coldly emotionless. Her head twisted from Harry2 to Draco to Harry2 to Draco. "No." her voice was flat and low, rather than high-pitched. "No," she said again. "I won't have it." She pointed at her son with one oven-mitted hand. "You get a divorce this instant." 

     Harry2 blinked. "Excuse me?" 

     "I won't have Draco Malfoy as a son-in-law! I refuse to even accept the idea that you would date him!" 

     Draco frowned. "Aren't you being close-minded about the matter?" 

     Marcia glared at him. "You be quiet. I don't want to hear a word from you." Marcia turned to Harry2. A pleading tone crept into her voice. "Harry, I don't care if you date women, I don't care if you date men. I don't care if you bring home a stray dog and tell me that the mutt was your long-lost soul mate and that you two both want to live in a dumpster behind a butcher shop--well, actually I'd worry about you then--I fully support you in everything that you think you should do!" She pointed at Draco. "But I refuse to be the mother-in-law to that--that thing!" 

     Draco bristled. "Hey!" 

     Marcia started to cry. "Where did I go wrong?" she wailed. "I tried to be a good mother, and my boy still goes and falls in with the wrong crowd!" 

     "Mooooommmmm . . ." Harry2 looked at the others for help. 

     "Mrs. Runes?" Francis stepped forward. Marcia stopped crying. 

     "Miss Runes," she said as she dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron. "I am Marcia Runes. My family calls me Sydney, my friends call me Marcia, and my enemies call me . . ." She hesitated for a moment. "We won't go into what my enemies call me." She glared at Draco. "You can call me Ma'am." 

     Harry stepped forward. "Harry and Draco aren't married." 

     Marcia sniffed. "Then how come he," she pointed at Draco, "said he was Harry's husband?" 

     "In the reality where Draco came from, he and that reality's Harry got married. Well, that reality's Harry got killed, and then we came along and we haven't quite managed to get rid of him since." 

     "Ah." Marcia looked at Draco. "So in other words, this guy like a leech on your bum; you know you've got to get rid of it, but he's too slippery to get hold of." 

     The corner of Draco's eye twitched. "A leech?" 

     Francis gave Marcia a friendly smile. "Rest assured," he said, "we have been taking good care of your son. Indeed, Harry--you Harry--is very helpful because he's strong enough to protect us on some levels." 

     Marcia glowed with pride. "I know; I taught him to be like that." 

     "A leech?" Everyone ignored Draco. 

     "How is Remus, Mom?" Harry2 asked. Marcia shrugged. 

     "He's doing fine. It took a while for him to get used to another him, but they get along well and having two Lupins is good for communications in the war, especially since no one but them like to listen to me anyway." She paused. "Well, they don't listen to me either, but that's okay, because they're living in my place and doing all the cooking. I don't mind." 

     "A leech?" 

     "I," said Francis as he began to riffle through his pockets, "have a question." He gently withdrew the little pink egg that Sirius was in. "Since you already that other Lupin, would you mind taking the Sirius Black that goes with him?" He removed the cushioning charms and held the pink egg out to Marcia, who accepted it. 

     "Sirius Black?" She studied the egg. 

     "Fawkes ate him." 

     Marcia looked up from the egg. "But--" 

     "And then he laid an egg which has Sirius in it." 

     She looked at the egg again. "How is that possible?" 

     "A leech?" 

     Harry2 glared at Draco. "She said leech, get it through your thick head and shut up." 

     Francis gave both Harry2 and Draco a disapproving look before he turned back to Marcia. "I do not have enough information at this time to make an educated guess." 

     "Then how do you know Sirius Black is in the egg?" 

     "Because both Sirius and I were swallowed by Fawkes, both us came out in an egg, and I hatched out of one." 

     Marcia lifted up her glasses and squinted at Francis with her crimson eyes. Those who had not seen Marcia's eyes before flinched back. She sighed and dropped her glasses back into place. "Well, you're whole at least," she muttered. She grinned. "So a little Sirius Black is going to pop out of the egg when he's ready, and I can raise him to be irritating to the Greaseball?" 

     Harry2 slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Mo-om!" 

     Severus the ghost appeared in front of Marcia. "What was that?" he asked. Marcia ignored him as she happily cradled the egg close to herself. 

     "Well, I guess we should be going," said Francis. He gestured to Harry. "Do you want him to stay?" 

     Marcia shook her head. "No, if he's useful, go ahead and use him. That is, if Harry still wants to help." Harry2 looked uncertain. "After all, I can live with being accused for all the things I never did." 

     "The Wild Hunt," said Harry2 firmly, "is your fault." 

     "No, it's Ron's." 

     Before Marcia and Harry2 could continue what was obviously an old argument, Severus grabbed Harry2 and Harry and steered them to the Mirror of Rebounds. 

     Marcia pointed at Draco. "If I ever learn that you so much as looked at my baby with dirty thoughts on your mind--and I suspect you of doing no less at this point, but I'd prefer to have proof to justify myself--I shall castrate you with something particularly dull. Like a butter knife, or something." 

     Draco gave her a one-fingered wave before the reality-jumpers were sucked into the Mirror of Rebounds. 

     Marcia looked from her pink egg to her tray of charcoaled brownies, turned around to find and inform Dumbledore of what she had seen, and slammed into a torpedoing little shadow. She dropped both the tray and the egg. "My brownies!" Marcia cried as she plucked the little shadow out of the air. "You ruined them!" 

     The dismembered hand she had yanked free from her grasp and flew at her throat. Enormous green fingers wrapped around her small neck and squeezed. Bones cracked and soft smooth muscle crushed beneath its grip. Marcia toppled over onto her face amidst the scattered charcoaled brownies. She worked her hands free of the oven mitts and then tried to pry her fingers beneath the choking hand to ease the crushing pressure. 

     A dull roar filled her hearing. Her eyes were wide and she gasped desperately for breath. She managed to bring her knees up, but concentrated fully on the choking hand. She thought she heard someone come up behind her. 

     "Hmmm," said Professor Snape. 

     Marcia waved one desperate hand. " 'M be'n' ch'k'd!" 

     "Hmm? You're being choked?" Professor Snape looked at Marcia's scattered brownies. "I do not doubt this has anything to do with your . . ." He paused a moment to search for a scathing enough phrase, but could not find one, ". . . pathetic attempt at fixing food that is beyond repair." He swept away as she managed to squawk in protest. Long moments passed as Marcia struggled to pry the hand loose. Knowing she would not succeed, Marcia climbed to her feet and stumbled through the hallway. She followed a light scent of death. Her glasses disappeared somewhere, but she did not care. Her vision swam dizzyingly. 

     "Nand'n!" She stumbled through the hallway as her vision blackened. She tumbled against the door of the staff room and pushed it open with her weight. "Nan . . ." 

     Strong arms held her upright. Nandin Sydney pried his fingers beneath the strangling green hand. He managed to loosen it enough for Marcia to draw a strangled breath. Her vision cleared slightly. "Nand'n!" 

     "Hold still, Sydney," Nandin hissed. He yanked his sword free and Marcia eyed it desperately. "Don't move." Marcia's eyes grew wide before she screwed them tightly shut. She heard the whistle of the sword through the air. Warm liquid soaked through her shirt and ran down her body. Her eyes popped open as Nandin fully pried the green hand away from Marcia's throat. It struggled against Nandin's iron grip. As a little crow demon, Marcia was not built for strength or filled with the love for fighting. Nandin Sydney, her adopted brother, was a cat demon who needed to fight. His lean body was better built to handle the unusual strength and power of the hand. He slammed it against the floor and then skewered it with his sword. 

     Green fingers convulsed and relaxed. Nandin turned to Marcia. She had one hand pressed tenderly around her swollen throat. 

     "Are you fine?" he asked. 

     Marcia shrugged. "I'm not dead, am I?" 

     "We both know the actual possibility of that." 

     "I'm fine." Marcia coughed and rubbed her throat. "I don't think I'll speak a lot," she said as she looked around at the staff room's occupants. Dumbledore were there, along with two Remus Lupins. She brightened at the sight of the werewolves. "That reminds me!" She whipped around and ran out of the room. 

     Nandin knelt down beside the pinned hand. He was small, but not nearly as much as Marcia, and gracefully beautiful. While Marcia emitted a sense of mischief and disability to be serious, there was something deadly cold about Nandin, something that hinted of deliberate violence. While both Nandin and Marcia had been professional mercenaries/killers, Nandin had relished his job while Marcia had shirked her responsibilities and hid from her superiors. 

     Nandin prodded the green hand with one delicate finger. The green hand's fingers snatched at it and squeezed. His face remained closed as the sound of breaking bone filled the air. He twisted the sword with his other hand, and the green hand released his finger. He stood up and stepped away from the hand as he reset his broken finger. The green hand twitched, and then dissolved out of existence. 

     "What," said Dumbledore for the first time, "was that?" 

     Nandin sniffed the air. "It smells of Voldemort," he said. "It's unnatural and evil." 

     Dumbledore walked over to the sword. He bent over to examine the dark blood that stained it. "Where did it go?" he asked. 

     "Beyond this reality." Nandin pried his sword free from the floor and sheathed it in its scabbard slung across his back. "It's chasing something." He looked at the others with his fluorescent gold cat-slit eyes. "Pity whatever it gets. That thing will not be destroyed." 


	18. Chapter 18

     Nandin found his sister seated on the floor in one of Hogwarts' hallways. There were scattered pieces of what looked like charcoal, an overturned tray, two oven mitts, and a large pink egg that was in Marcia's lap. Nandin sunk down against the wall next to Marcia when she did not move. 

     "What are you doing?" he asked. 

     "Hush." Marcia waved him quiet. "It's hatching!" Nandin could see fine cracks that spread through it. She glowed proudly as a large chunk of egg shell fell away. More followed until the tiny little figure emerged. 

     Nandin's eyebrows shot upward in shock. 

     Sirius Black wiped goo away from his eyes and looked around in amazement. Sprouting from his back was a pair of feathered red wings. They were gunky and slimy-looking, but promised of great grace and beauty. He poked them curiously. 

     "Isn't he cute?" Marcia whispered proudly. 

     Sirius gave her an oddly blank look. "Where am I?" he asked. "Who are you?" He looked at his wings again. "_What _am I?" He tugged at one of the wings. "Are these even natural?" he muttered to himself. 

     "You are Sirius Black!" Marcia gushed brightly. She petted him with a single finger. "And I am Marcia Runes! Together, you and I are going to annoy Professor Snape!" 

     Sirius scratched his head. "Last I remember was standing next to Harry and this crack in the flo--wait." He blinked. "Did you say annoy Professor Snape?" A slow smile broke across his face. It was the smile of a man dying from thirst who had just been handed a cold beer. Sirius' wings fluttered. "It's a dream come true," he whispered. 

     "Let's go!" Marcia jumped to her feet and hurried away with her new little pet. 

     Nandin studied Marcia's brownies. He picked up one and tried to break it in half. When that did not succeed, he decided they would be highly useful as deadly missiles against the enemy. He gathered them up. Each brownie was placed in a pocket until they bulged. Weighed down with enough cookies to poison the greater majority of Voldemort's private army, Nandin Sydney waddled off in search of some victims to test his newly-found weapons on.   
  
  
  


     One final leap, and the reality-jumpers found themselves in a reality utterly different from any other. 

     It was summertime at Hogwarts, and no one was about. The sense of peace that emitted from the walls had not been disturbed for many years. This was a reality that had not been touched by the horror known as Voldemort. The wizarding world was at such peace that no one beside Hagrid and Filch dwelled at Hogwarts. The great old castle was safe from worry or harm. 

     Harry and the others did not know this as they wandered through the warm, empty hallways of Hogwarts. They could feel the peace though. The sense of harmony permeated from the very walls, sublime with senses of taste and touch. 

     "It's like we're home finally," Draco said with a voice full of awe. 

     Severus drifted in and out one of the hall walls in lazy figure-eight circles. "Yes," he said thoughtfully to himself as he entered the hallway. "I would say that we are home." He drifted through one wall and floated through the floor beneath Harry's feet. Harry squeaked and jumped out of the way. "Home to a place that someone forgot to lock the windows and left the door wide open." 

     Francis nodded in agreement. "It does have a sense of vulnerability. Come on; let's go find someone to ask why this place isn't war-ridden like all the others." He picked up Pandora's Box and marched purposefully forward with his desperate flag of surrender concocted from a stained white handkerchief and his wand, as if in search of some living soul. 

    _ Or something close,_ Harry added silently as he remembered the Hogwarts ghosts. Draco picked up the Mirror of Rebounds and fell into step behind Harry. Harry2 followed him closely behind to be sure that Draco did not do something suspicious. 

     Severus floated through one wall and disappeared. Like a little brood of ducklings, the two Harrys and Draco followed after Francis, who strode forward like a mother duck intent upon the distant pond in which to train her precious brood to swim in. Oddly enough, the way that Francis shifted his feet from side to side, propelled his weight forward, and fluffed his canary-yellow robes reminisced of how very much like a duck he was; of how strange he had become since being swallowed by Fawkes. 

    _ Maybe it's the stress, _Harry thought to himself as he studied the others for the first time. Harry thought he had been strapped for time many other moments in his life, but he never realized what a luxury it was to be able to slow down enough for his thought to catch up with him. They were often instead, quite literally, left behind in practically a whole other universe. _I mean, all this reality jumping can't be healthy for someone of his, well, sort. Probably isn't healthy for me either. _His temples throbbed with the pounding waves of a migraine. He knew from the pinched look on Harry2's face that the fire demon was not feeling much better himself. _My kingdom for aspirin, _Harry thought dismally as he pressed his hand against his forehead. 

     He stared at Francis' heels as they walked through the halls. Francis went down one end from another end of the hall, through door after door. Not once did Francis pause, but Harry still got the feeling that Francis had just gotten lost in Hogwarts. Of course, it had been a while since they had actually been inside a Hogwarts Castle that was not filled with traps or missing several different floors, towers, or passageways. 

     "Hark!" Francis skidded to a halt too quickly for Harry to react to. He collided with Francis and together they nearly toppled over. 

     "What is it?" Harry, Harry2, and Draco all peered curiously around Francis' shoulder. 

     "It's me!" Francis walked over a large portrait on the wall and looked into it. Inside the portrait was another Francis. This Francis tinkered with several rubber bands and a stick. Harry was not sure of what it may be, but it looked as if it had something to do with perpetual motion. 

     At the sound of Francis' exclamation, the tinkering Francis looked up. He squinted and fiddled with the frames of his glasses as he stared at the reality-jumpers. 

    "You," he said distinctly, "are not from around here." 

     "I'm Francis Potter," said Francis, "and you are my portrait." 

     The painted Francis nodded his head. "Indeed. But you're supposed to be dead." 

     Francis sighed. "Did I fall off the broom again, break my neck, and die instantly?" 

     Portrait-Francis tinkered about with his rubber bands for a moment, lost in thought, before he reacted to what Francis said. "Wait--fall off the broom again?" He frowned at Francis. "Why would you do it a second time?" 

     "It's slightly more complex than that," Francis said tiredly. "You see, I am, well . . . here." He took Dumbledore's letter and unfolded it. He held it out for Portrait-Francis to read. Harry, tired and weary, sat down on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. Draco and Harry2 followed suit. Portrait-Francis sighed when he finished reading. He looked forlornly at his contraption of rubber bands and stick before he pulled a chair out of some place beyond the edge of his frame and sat down. 

     "You're looking for a good Tom Riddle?" he asked. His face scrunched up with some sort of irritation. "How do you define good?" 

     "Someone who isn't Voldemort, and therefore does not seek to take over the world," Francis replied immediately. 

     Portrait-Francis nodded his head. "I see. Well, I'd like to say that you should go to Dinsmore and speak to Pandora, but," he shrugged his shoulders with a pout, "she's dead. Still and all, if you are looking for Dumbledore, you might find him there. He visits Dinsmore now and then on Summer Vacation. You'll not be finding anyone for help here." 

     "Ah." Francis rolled up the parchment and stuck it into his pocket. "I shall make a portkey and tune it into Dinsmore. By the way, why are you here at Hogwarts instead of Dinsmore?" 

     "It was Pandora's wishes in her will." Portrait-Francis fiddled with his rubber bands. "She said that I would probably rot away into cobwebs and dust at Dinsmore, that I would be of greater use here. So now I get to cover the entrance to the library and make sure that mischievous ruffians do not sneak into it late at night with the intent of getting into the Restricted Section." 

     "Does it work?" 

     "Hmm?" Portrait-Francis looked up from his rubber bands. "Sorry. It's just that I've been working on this thing for many years now, and I can't seem to make it work. Ah well." He carefully placed it to the side and stood up. "I can manage the block the ruffians when I can." He smiled nervously at Francis. 

     "What do you mean?" Francis asked. 

     "Well, since you're me, you know about the trouble with the Bloody Baron." 

     Francis crossed his arms expectedly before himself. "Good old Uncle Hector," he said. 

     "Yes, well. I don't think that Pandora took that into consideration when she willed me to Hogwarts. It takes little effort from the Slytherin students to talk him into, well, paying me a visit. While I try to hide from the Bloody Baron, the students sneak into the library. It's been an interesting twenty years, it has." Portrait-Francis smiled sheepishly. 

     "Now we know how Cousin Quigley felt," Francis said. 

     Portrait-Francis looked confused. "Cousin who?" 

     "Cousin Quigley. Quaffing Quigley. The dismal little Snape who winded up in Hufflepuff and drank all the time?" 

     Portrait-Francis shook his head. "No, I don't recognize the person." 

     "Oh." Francis carefully backed away from his portrait. "Well, thank you. I imagine I may or may not see you in a later time." He started to walk swiftly down the hall. "Come along, boys." When he did not hear any response, Francis stopped and turned around. He sighed and walked back to the wall Harry, Harry2, and Draco had fallen asleep again. Francis bent over and shook Harry awake. "Come on," he said as he reached out and did the same to Draco. 

     "BACK!" Draco was instantly on his feet. He heaved Francis away and unsheathed his sword before he realized what just happened. "Oh. Sorry about that. Reflexes and all," he said in explanation at the wary way Francis eyed him from where he sprawled across the floor. Harry2 helped Francis to his feet. Draco yawned. "I was sort of worried about how peaceful I slept, since it's dangerous to be so vulnerable. I guess I fell back into my old mine set." 

     Francis straightened his rumpled robes. "Come along," he said as tucked Pandora's Box beneath his arm and hurried away once more. "Now, if that was the library . . ." Francis looked around as they reached an intersection of halls. He pointed down one direction. " . . . Then that would be the entrance." Francis followed a path only he knew. The others hurried closely behind. Francis dug out the paper that listed all the odd things about Cousin Quigley. He scribbled on it with one of Marcia's charcoaled brownies as he hurried along. "Cousin Quigley not known to exist in certain universes," he said. "Which is odd because everyone else did. Remember how I said that everyone exists, even with different blood lines?" 

     "Cousin Quigley is very distinct," Severus said from the far back of the line. "It's difficult not to recognize his description." 

     "And," added Francis as he tucked his paper and brownie into his pocket, "the peacefulness of this place is entirely out of odds with all the other realities." 

     Harry peered over Francis' shoulder as their pace slowed. Francis reached out to open the small door that blocked their way. A wave of summer heat hit them, and Francis exited through the door. Harry was assaulted with several bright shades of green beneath a sweltering sun, hung aloft in a bright blue sky. 

     Draco took a deep breath as he stepped outdoors. "I haven't seen such a lovely day since . . ." He paused to think. "Actually, I don't think I have seen such a lovely day." He smiled jubilantly at the two Harrys who, their eyes shielded, both scuttled away from him as quick as they possibly could. Draco's smile turned into sad puzzlement. "Was it something I said?" he asked. 

     A ghostly hand passed through his shoulder momentarily before Severus Snape yanked him backwards. "I believe it is time to speak," Severus said slowly, as if he was trying to speak to a student without inadvertently frightening the child out of what wits remained. Severus pulled Draco into a corner of Hogwarts as Harry, Harry2, and Francis circled around the lake and wandered over the green fields that surrounded the old castle. 

     "Now?" Draco looked around. He pointed at their swiftly-receding companions. "But what about--" 

     "We'll catch up to them." Severus sighed and folded his hands behind himself. His awkward gentleness was an unfamiliar sight to most people, but the harsh bluntness and extreme malice that Severus had exuded when he was alive had worn off slowly after he died. He could still summon such a cloak at any given time, but it was a reluctant cloak that the others were slowly realizing he hid behind. 

     But to a Slytherin--one of Severus' own--especially Draco, who Severus had always shown a soft spot for Draco because of some interior or ulterior motive, such awkward gentleness was not strange. It was merely something that happened when Severus went against his normal behavior. 

     "Draco," said Severus slowly, "I know well enough why you like Harry--" 

     "Professor, I love him." 

     Severus scowled menacingly at Draco, who winced. "It's rude to interrupt your elders. Now, I know well enough why, but Harry does not share the same feelings as you." 

     "I know." 

     Severus threw his arms wide. "Then why you push yourself on to him?" 

     "Hmmm?" Draco's eyes gazed across the distance at the subject of their discussion. He shifted the weight of the Mirror of Rebounds from one arm to another. 

     "Your Harry must have l-l-l--" Severus gritted his teeth and forced himself to verbally acknowledge what he generally tried to avoid, "l-loved you, but for what reason is not something that Harry and Harry can possibly perceive. You and your Harry grew used to one another, saw things together, were companions is both pain and joy. Harry and Harry do not share those experiences with you, so they have nothing to build affection off of. I really think that you should find another way to express your feelings towards them." 

     Draco turned back to Severus. "Are you saying, "he began, "that I need to court Harry or Harry--I haven't quite made up my mind which one I like the most, though that Ma'am Runes may help with the final decision--in a more subtle, seductive matter?" 

     Truthfully, that was not _quite _what Severus had in mind. But seeing as how Draco lacked the discreetness that other Slytherins were raised into during their seven years at Hogwarts, Severus supposed it was the furthest he was going to get with him. He wondered, briefly, what had happened to himself in the few months that he had been dead to have deteriorated his ability to intimidate common sense into nitwits. 

     Voldemort was not kidding when he told Severus that death changed people in unimaginable ways. 

     At Severus' slight nod, Draco nodded his head too. "Are we done with this little man-to-ghost discussion?" he asked. 

     Severus had a lot more he wanted to speak to Draco about--mostly about censoring certain metaphors Draco used, how certain things should be kept in the bedroom and only the bedroom and preferably when said bedroom was not being shared by all five of the reality jumpers--but he nodded again anyway. 

     Draco eagerly hurried after Harry and Harry2 where they were circling the lake. With a pained sigh, Severus floated after Francis. Of all the reality jumpers, Francis was the only one who continued to retain any sense and dignity. 

    _ Well, most of the time, _Severus amended as Francis tripped over his feet and gracelessly flopped face-first into the lake with Pandora's Box.   
  
  
  


     A discussion ensued as to what they did next. 

     "No one is around," Francis said from where he was drying his robes with a warming charm. "We won't learn anything from emptiness, so I propose we make way for Diagon Alley and listen to the gossip there." 

     "Aren't we supposed to go to Dinsmore?" Draco asked. 

     "I'd prefer to go to Diagon Alley first and listen to the gossip. Pandora's dead, I'm dead, we don't know who may still be living at Dinsmore. If it's one of my children, I'd have a bit of a problem trying to explain why I was alive and looking for a good Tom Riddle." 

     "It's a long hike," Draco pointed out. "Unless anyone wants to roam Hogwarts in search of Floo powder to borrow." 

     Francis shook his head. "No. We can make a portkey." He riffled through his pockets until he came up with a cracked peppermint. "This will do," he said. He moved off to a moss-covered rock. He set the peppermint on top of the rock, scratched his head thoughtfully with the tip of his wand, and then plopped down on the ground beside the peppermint. As he began to wrap spells and charms for transport, safety from high velocity and speeds, and various other layers of protection and traveling magics around the peppermint. 

     Having only once seen a portkey created (by Dumbledore and McGonagall for Madam Pomfrey to transfer Francis to the infirmary when Harry pulled him through the Mirror of Rebounds), Harry watched Francis with fascination. Harry2 watched as well, more with scientific observation than fascination though. Severus was thoughtfully quiet. Harry wanted to ask him what he had spoken about with Draco, but the sour expression Severus wore and the sly expression plastered on Draco's warned him not to. 

     Harry decided just to be content with watching Francis create the portkey. He and Harry2 sat side-by-side in the tall green grass. Francis was oblivious to his surroundings. His actions were slightly more precise and slightly more quicker than Dumbledore's had been as he wrapped the spells around the peppermint. 

     Severus floated over to where Harry and Harry2 were seated, and floated closely beside Harry. He propped his elbows on his knees and watched Francis with a bored look on his face. Draco looked at Severus before he sat down at Harry2's side. 

     Harry leaned close to Severus. "How brilliant is Francis compared to Tom Riddle?" Harry whispered. 

     "Hmm?" One ghostly eyebrow twitched as Severus looked at him, annoyed as all out. 

     "Because if Francis is a genius and is so smart, then why is Tom Riddle considered to have been the most intelligent student for Hogwarts to have ever produced. I've been thinking--" 

     "Impossible." Something of dark humor flashed briefly in Severus' eyes. "I told you once before that you're a Gryffindor." 

     Harry gritted his teeth. "What about Francis?" 

     Severus shrugged. "He's brilliant. The problem with Francis is that he doesn't always see the big picture." He sighed. "Both Francis and Voldemort are like scientists who awake one morning with a theory of how to cure the common cold. They shower and dress for the day, still thinking intensely upon this theory. As one, they would sit down at the kitchen table to eat breakfast and suddenly, they see the truth of their theory and realize what the cure for the common cold was. These scientists jump to their feet and storm outside to announce their discovery to the whole world. Now, upon seeing this happen, we realize what the difference between Francis and Voldemort is." 

    "What's that?" 

     "Francis, while thinking intensely upon his theory, put his shirt on backwards, forgot his trousers, his shoes are on the wrong feet, and was saved from chewing on his socks for breakfast by seeing the truth in his theory." 

     Harry tried to imagine a trouser-less Francis with his shirt on backwards and his feet bare as he chewed on a pair of clean socks. 

     The subject of their conversation paused momentarily in wrapping a charm around the peppermint. Francis watched a fly buzz annoyingly around the peppermint. It landed on the rock beside it. Francis whacked it with his wand, where the charm he had been wrapping around the peppermint lingered. It sparked and a small bolt of electricity ran up the wand's length to fry Francis' fingers. 

     "Yah!" Francis dropped his wand and stuck his fingers in his mouth. He frowned thoughtfully at the fly he missed as it took flight and buzzed around his head. 

     Harry, not at all surprised or amazed, found he could imagine Francis just as Severus described him. 

     Francis finished creating the portkey without a further incident. With that completed, he wrapped the activation spell on it. "Are we ready to go to Diagon Alley?" he asked. The others stared blankly at him. He sighed. "Do we all need another pep talk?" he asked. 

     They all stared blankly at him. "Come on." Francis' hand hovered over the peppermint. His other hand waved at the others. "Take it and we can go." 

     Harry, careful not to brush against Pandora's Box, which Francis held securely tucked under one arm, tightly grabbed the material of Francis' robes. Harry2 looped one arm around Harry's waist and grabbed Draco's free hand. Francis grabbed the peppermint. There were sharp tugs all around, and everyone faded into the distance.   
  
  
  


     "He's around here." Marcia timidly peeked around one of the dungeon hall corners. She glanced around in search of her tall, dark target. "I think he might be going over some papers," she said to the feathery little figure perched on her shoulder. 

     Sirius looked around eagerly. His wings quivered with excitement. Marcia gently scooped him off her shoulder and set him down on a ledge in the wall. "Stay here; I'm going to go looking for him. He'll get mad at seeing me and will probably toss another curse at me." She shrugged and grinned. "I am impervious!" she declared as she slunk away. Sirius watched her disappear through a door. His wings fluttered momentarily as he appeared to be in profound thought. 

     He shook himself free and leapt off the ledge into the air. His wings bucked in the air, but he righted himself, and flapped drunkenly down the hall. He swooped, bobbed, and fluttered ungracefully in the air. But for his lack of grace, Sirius thought his mother flight was not at all that bad. 

     He dipped down close to the floor as he came across a door where he could see candlelight under the door. Sirius tried to land. He pulled his wings back to still his flight. He lost his momentum and balance to land on his head. Sirius rubbed it for a moment as he clambered to his feet and ducked beneath the door and into the room. At either side of the door was a gigantic bookcase crammed with books, parchments, bottles, and various misshapen trinkets. Directly across from the door, bathed in the light of several torches in brackets on the wall above, was a crooked desk covered with papers. One dark figure hunched over the papers. 

     Sirius craned his neck and squinted at the figure. His wings flapped mightily and he lifted himself into the air. His drunken flight took him close to the dark figure. "Hahahaha!" he laughed eagerly to himself when he recognized the greasy hair and hooked nose. He fluttered close to the figure, and was going to try and land as gracefully as he could on the inkwell when a gigantic monster flew through the air and smashed him into the surface of the desk. 

     "Flies keep getting bigger every year," Severus Snape muttered to himself as he lifted up the flyswatter up and studied at the mess of splayed limbs and ragged-looking feathers. He eyed the creature before he gingerly swept it off his desk into the near-by garbage can. "And uglier." He made a special note to empty the garbage as soon as possible as he transfigured the fly swatter back into his quill.   
  
  
  


     Diagon Alley was a bustling avenue of wizards that streamed through the crammed allies, in and out of shops, in search of only they knew what. No one noticed the lean man with rumpled blonde hair, glasses and goggles, wearing canary-yellow robes emerge from an a loud crash came from it. 

     "We weren't that all too far off," Francis said helpfully to his companions as they emerged, bruised and sore-looking, from the alley behind him. 

     "Next time," Severus said as he appeared behind Francis, "I get to aim the portkey." 

     "Let's not travel by portkey," Harry said. He stared glumly at the cracked lenses of his glasses. Without saying a word, Francis stuck his wand into Harry's face and muttered a charm. The crack sealed smoothly until the surface of his lenses seemed as if they had not been broken. Harry adjusted his glasses as Francis absently scratched the side of his head with his wand. 

     "We need to go to the Leaky Cauldron," he said. "We can overhear all sorts of precious gossip then." Francis, Pandora's Box still securely tucked under his arm, started off with another duck-leading walk. The others fell into step behind him, with Harry trailing behind last. Harry studied his surroundings with no small amount of amazement. There was a mood that seemed to overlay the atmosphere. There was nothing dismal about this mood, or depressing, or sad. This mood was bright, cheery, and far more optimistic than Harry ever noticed before. 

     Harry followed slower behind the others as he paused now and then to study eager faces of bright-eyed children. Adults ran up and down the street with a breathy exuberance. Shopkeepers jubilantly greeted people from their shops. Children dashed everywhere, underfoot to all, but few yelled at them out of stressed malice and aggression. 

     Harry watched all of this was a growing amount of amazement. He saw two little girls bicker over what sort of candy they were going to buy with the sickles their mother had given them. He did not know how long he stood there watching them. With a flash of envy, he realized that these little girls did not know what it was like to live in envy and despair, knowing full well of the monster that dwelled in the dark. 

     "Harry." 

     At the sound of Severus' voice, Harry twisted his head to look at Severus. He looked back at the two little girls. "I'm jealous," he said finally. 

     "We are," Severus agreed amiably. "It is the way of us for those we can see do not bear scars as we do. But we have to bear them, so they don't." 

     Harry shrugged. "I guess." 

     "Come." Severus turned about and floated off to the direction Francis and the others had gone. Harry followed him. People gave them odd looks, but mostly because Severus was obviously a ghost. A few older persons, as if they recognized how fierce Severus was or how battle-worn Harry felt in that moment, stepped away from them. Harry studied his surroundings. There was no one that he recognized. Even some of the places in Diagon Alley was different. 

     His steps slowed as he became engrossed with looking at everything. 

     "Harry!" Severus appeared in his line of vision. "Are you going to pay attention and follow me, or do I have to carry you?" 

     Harry shuddered at the thought of Severus' freezing arms carting him off to wherever Francis and the others were. "I'll pay attention," he said. Severus gave him a dark look. 

     "See that you do," Severus said warningly. He turned about and floated more slowly away. He glanced occasionally over his shoulder at Harry. Harry, with a pained sigh, stuck close to Severus. Their pace matched easily, and Harry's eyes never left Severus. 

     "Hmm. There's in here." Severus gave Harry one last look as he floated through the door of the Leaky Cauldron. Harry reached his hand out to grasp the door knob. Something flashed through his line of vision--it was a streak of green light, like the flight of an arrow that trailed past his sight. Harry's head snapped around. He looked at the crowd of passersby, a multitude of different people who wore different clothes. Harry's eyes spied a trail of bronze-colored clothing. Without knowing why, his eyes traveled upward. The bronze clothing was the cape that a tall, graceful figure held wrapped around his shoulders as he moved with the flow of the crowd. 

     Harry lunged after it. "Wait!" He hurled himself into the crowd of passersby and pushed his way after the figure. "Wait! Stop!" 

     Severus appeared halfway through the door. "Harry?" 

     "Stop! Come back!" 

     Severus sighed. "Can't turn my back . . ." He muttered unpleasant things beneath his breath as he flew after Harry. 

     People twisted around to see who was yelling. At the sight of Harry barreling his way through the crowd, people scattered. The crowd clumsily parted itself to allow his headlong rush. 

     "Hey!" The figure Harry chased stopped. A little girl ran before Harry and he sidestepped to avoid running her over. Harry felt his ankle twist. He threw his weight forward to avoid landing on the twisted ankle and injuring it. He landed on his stomach and chest, his arms thrown out to help stint some of the fall. His glasses flew off his face and landed somewhere as his lungs collapsed inward and expelled air at the impact. 

     "Well," said a silky voice before Harry. Harry gasped desperately for air as he squinted up at the dark green and bronze blur before him. Sun glinted off glass as the blur stretched out before him. Harry grasped forward at the glinting, and felt his hands close over his glasses. He came to his knees as he put his glasses on and looked upward again. 

     "I'm not dreaming," he said hastily to the bemused dark man standing before him. 

     "Neither am I." 

     "I Jumped here." 

     "Did you now?" The dark man smiled gently at Harry. "Are you sure you didn't trip instead?" 

     Harry looked down at his skinned hands. He rubbed them together as he stood up. "I Jumped here with the aid of the Mirror of Rebounds and Pandora's Box. We're here looking for a good Tom Riddle." 

     The smile disappeared. The dark man pulled Harry to the side of the street, out of the way and hearing of others. "Did you find him?" he asked softly as he leaned against one wooden building. 

     Harry shrugged. "I don't know. If Voldemort doesn't exist in this world, can you tell me if Tom Riddle does?" 

     The dark man silently contemplated Harry's words. He drew the end of his cape closer to himself as he carefully regarded Harry with all-knowing blue eyes. Harry shivered. "Boy, what are you going to do once you find this good Tom Riddle?" 

     "Take him back," Harry said truthfully. "He's the only one who can help us." 

     "Have you considered the possibility that he might not wish to come with you?" 

     Actually, Harry had not. He was not sure if Francis had considered that possibility either. They were slightly too desperate to welcome the idea in the first place, with all that they had done to come so far. "Why not?" Harry asked. "It's all Tom Riddle's fault. He's the one who destroying this world. If the realities fall, we're all pretty much doomed. He's the only one who can stop it from happening. It's his responsibility, since it's all his fault to begin with." 

     "Indeed. What about you? What if you destroyed Voldemort?" 

     "I'll die." Harry sighed. 

     "And how do you plan on persuading Tom Riddle into coming with you to stop himself from destroying the world?" 

     "I don't know. Maybe tell him everything. I mean, if he's good, then he would know that he_ has _to come with us to stop Voldemort." 

    The dark man shook his head. "You make it sound all too clear-cut, when it is not." He crossed his arms before himself and slumped forward. Even in his slouchy appearance, there was still something immeasurably powerful about him. Seeing the power radiate from the man, Harry cocked his head curiously to the side. 

    "Who are you?" he asked. 

    The dark man smiled again, but it was a bitter smile of mockery. "I think you know," he said softly without looking at Harry. 

    Harry did. In that moment, he realized that he had known who the dark man was from the very first moment they met. The identity that Harry had always denied himself to acknowledge came from his difficulty to picture Voldemort as he might have been had he chosen different pathways in life. All during Harry's reality-jumping, he had never truly expected to find a good Tom Riddle. 

     "Would you come with us?" he asked. 

     Tom Riddle pushed away from the wall. "Why?" 

     Harry squared his shoulders. "Because Pandora told me that to save the world, I had to find a good Tom Riddle." 

     "Ah, but did she tell you that you have to take me somewhere." 

     Harry gazed steadily at Tom Riddle. "Do you have a better idea?" 

     "Not at the moment, no." 

     Harry pointed down the street he ran down. "Do you want to talk to Francis about it? He's the resident genius who can figure things out." He paused as Tom's eyes twinkled mischievously at him. A vision of a trouser-less Francis with his shirt on backward popped once more into Harry's mind. "Well," Harry amended quickly, "in an absent-minded sort of way." 

     "That is a kind way to describe him," Tom Riddle said. 


	19. Chapter 19

     Harry and Tom Riddle hugged the wall close to avoid the moving wave of people. "Why's it so crowded?" Harry asked Riddle over his shoulder. Riddle shrugged. 

     "This is the lunch hour," he said. "Diagon Alley is always sort of a crush on the lunch hour just before a holiday." 

     "Ah. Poor timing on our part?" Harry asked as they walked back to the Leaky Cauldron. 

     "I wouldn't say that. Had you come any later, you may not have found me." 

     Harry and Riddle walked in silence. The noise of other people talking, laughing, and scurrying by more than made up for their silence. It was not uncomfortable, as Harry supposed it would be. He tried to imagine how Francis, Severus, and the others would react to knowing that he had found whom they had sought for so long. 

     The answer he got was unexpected. 

     "Harry!" Severus appeared out of nowhere directly in font of Harry. "What have I told you about running off?" Severus folded his hands before himself and glowered down at Harry. He floated knee-high in the air, making him all the more taller than Harry. "It's dangerous to be roaming around when we still know nothing about--" 

     Severus stopped and stared beyond Harry's shoulder to Tom Riddle. 

     "I had to, Uncle Severus," Harry said. "When I saw him in the crowd, I had to get his attention. So I ran after him." 

    Severus' only response was a wheezing gasp. 

     "This is who we've been seeking all this time!" Harry tried to smile at Severus. Severus wheezed again. Harry sighed and turned around to Riddle. "Sorry," he said apologetically. "He's not always like this; really." 

     Riddle smiled knowingly. "I understand," he said in a soothing voice. "After all, if he was killed by me, to meet me when I am not who killed him must be somewhat of a shock." 

     Severus wheezed again. He whirled around and disappeared into the crowd. There came gasps and cries of shock as the wave of cold that was a ghost went directly through them. Harry grinned. "Now I can tell him how embarrassed I am of his behavior!" It was not often that Harry could find something to openly criticize Severus with and not regret it later. Actually, Harry suspected that if he brought this up at a later time, he probably would regret it. "Well, we better go after him before he convinces the others that I have wandered into Voldemort's sinister clutches." 

     Riddle shrugged, and gestured for Harry to lead the way. They reached the Leaky Cauldron a few minutes later. Harry opened the door and peered around the frame for his companions. He saw them seated around a large table with a plate before each seat. Severus floated in an empty chair, stark white and listless. The corner of his left eye twitched as he looked over at Riddle and Harry. Pandora's Box and the Mirror of Rebounds were both shoved under the table. Francis and Harry2 were too busy making a gigantic sub sandwich to notice. Harry2 recited what they needed and handed the ingredients to Francis, who eagerly piled them on top of one half of a loaf of bread 

     " . . a layer of cheese, a layer of meat, a layer of lettuce, a layer of meat, a layer of tomato, a layer of cheese . . ." 

     Draco watched Francis and Harry2 with wide eyes as the condiments piled higher and higher. 

     Harry and Riddle walked over to the table to observe. " . . . slather on a thick layer of relish, and voila! The sandwich that kept me alive all during Mom's cooking sprees!" 

     Francis topped the stack of food with another layer of bread. He eager rubbed his hands together as he looked at it. "This looks good!" He passed the plate over to Harry2, who hacked then the sandwich into four parts. He gave one to Francis, and another to Draco. 

     Draco eyed his quarter of the sandwich. "How am I going to fit this thing into my mouth?" he asked as he measured it with his fork; the sandwich was taller than the length of his fork. Harry 2 shrugged. 

     "Shouldn't be a problem," he said as he squeezed his quarter of the sandwich into a quarter of its original height. He bit into it and mumbled around his mouthful. "You'f suf a big mouf an'way." He jumped and choked as Draco narrowed his eyes and viciously kicked him beneath the table. 

     Francis reached over for the mustard jar and noticed Harry. "Hello, Harry," he said cheerfully. He pushed the remaining quarter of the sandwich over to Harry. "This is yours. Where'd you run off to?" He pulled the mustard jar close to him and opened it 

     Harry wondered briefly if he should inform them of Riddle while they were eating. Riddle decided for him. He stepped around Harry and nodded politely at Harry's companions. Harry2 and Draco ignored him. Severus' eye twitched again. Francis froze with his butter knife dipped in the mustard jar. Riddle smiled. 

     "It has been a while since we've last seen each other," Riddle said. The others looked at him. "Alive." Harry2 and Draco frowned at the ominous sound. Riddle pulled a chair from a nearby empty table over to theirs. He sat down on it. 

     Francis cleared his throat. He took his butter knife out of the mustard jar and sighed as he laid it down on his plate. "You do realize that we have never exactly been on the best of terms." 

     Riddle shrugged. "I apologize for any distroughtness I may have caused from trying to kiss Pandora while you were still alive. As a hindsight, I realize that it was poor of me to make such a move on a married woman." 

     Francis blinked. "You kissed Pandora?" 

     Harry nudged Riddle. "This is a different reality, where different things happened." 

     "You _kissed _Pandora?" Francis twisted the napkin at his side. 

     Riddle shrugged. "Ah. So it is, so it is." 

     "_You _kissed _Pandora_?" The napkin tore. 

     Severus glared at Riddle. "You upset Francis on purpose." 

     Francis did not look upset-angry, or upset-nervous. He was as white as Severus and looked like a large animal (approximately the size of a horse) had kicked him in the stomach. His hands trembled slightly as he yanked the halves of the napkin about. 

     Riddle stood up. "My presence disturbs you," he observed. Francis continued to stare at the spot Riddle had sat. He shrugged. "If any wishes to further speak to me, I shall be at Dinsmore. If you are too upset," here he gave Francis a knowing look, "please wait until you have calmed down. Get used to the idea." He walked away from the table. 

     Severus poked Francis with one chilling finger. Francis tore his napkin again as he jumped out of his chair in surprise. He glared at Severus. 

     "He kissed Pandora," Severus said coldly. "It's not the end of the world." 

     "But she's _my _wife," Francis said in a whining voice. He suddenly looked lost. 

     Severus frowned, made a face, and thought for a moment. He schooled his face into something that resembled sympathy. "But this is not our reality," he said. "You have to remember that what happened here clearly never took place in our reality, and visa versa. He may not have kissed Pandora in our reality." 

     Francis glared at him. "I distinctly remember someone telling me about the price Pandora agreed to pay for the return of that someone not becoming a werewolf." 

     Severus was silent for only a moment. "Ah, but it was_ Voldemort _who asked her. By that time, the man you knew as Tom Riddle had become so dark and twisted that only Pandora referred to him as Tom Riddle any more. It is quite clear that this man, this Tom Riddle, never took that path." 

     Francis glared mutely down at his sandwich. He sighed. "Can't think too well on an empty stomach," he decided. He reached for the mustard jar. "After this though, we will have to find him and explain things." 

     Harry decided it was wisest not to mention how he had already did that in one of his dreams.   
  
  
  


     Harry was the only one without an appetite. When Harry2 greedily eyed his sandwich, Harry pushed the plate it was on to him. "Want this?" he asked. "I don't feel like anything." 

     "Thank you." Harry2 snatched it up, and was munching contentedly on it before Harry could change his mind. 

     The more he thought about not telling the others about how he already explained everything to Tom Riddle in his dream, the more Harry was sure it was a poor idea. Firstly, he reasoned, if Riddle mentioned anything, Harry would have to admit to holding back information. Both Francis and Severus would be disappointed in him. Secondly, Harry was unsure now that he truly dreamed. On one hand, he was dreaming in his body, but on the other hand, Tom Riddle firmly believed that he had not been dreaming when Harry came. Did that mean that somehow Harry solidified himself in this reality? How did he suddenly have a body if his body was back in the reality he was supposed to be in with Francis and Severus? 

     Draco leaned across the table and waved one hand in front of Harry's blank eyes. "He's really out of it," he said when Harry did not even blink. 

     "Maybe he's in shock," Francis suggested. "I, of course, would not blame him. Of all of us, Harry is the one who has been through the most with Voldemort." He shot an uncertain look over to Severus. "Minus you," he added hastily, "but then you're already dead, and I do not believe it is possible for a ghost to go into shock." 

     Severus smiled coldly at Francis. "There was that one time when you opened that one door in the third reality we jumped after that Amazon Ginny incident, where I was chained to the wall while--" 

     "Stop!" Francis' face blushed a deep red as he hurriedly glanced away. "I was hoping to forget that!" 

     Severus shrugged. "Then again, perhaps that isn't the sort of shock you were thinking of." 

     Francis shook his head. "Certainly not." 

     Harry2 finished his sandwich. He brushed the crumbs from his shirt. "Are we going now?" He stood up and looked at the others. They blankly stared back at him. He frowned and placed his hands on his hips. "We came all this way for a good Tom Riddle. Why aren't we doing something about it?" 

     Draco nodded. A dangerous gleam appeared in his eyes. "We should." 

     Harry2 pointed a finger at him. "You are not going to kill him." 

     Draco looked aghast. "I wasn't going to do such a thing!" 

     "You're up to something. Whenever you get that look in your eye, it means that you are up to something." 

     Draco smiled sweetly at Harry2. "How astute of you to notice." He leaned forward with his elbows on the table and his chin supported on folded hands. "Tell me," he said with a husky voice, "was there anything else you noticed?" He suggestively wagged his eyebrows at Harry2. 

     Francis jumped to his feet. "I'm ready!" he declared. He bent over and grabbed Pandora's Box from beneath the table, snapped around, and marched off to Tom the proprietor of the Leaky Cauldron. "Let's all go to Dinsmore." 

     Harry2's hand bunched into a fist as he frowned at Draco. "If you--" 

     Severus grabbed him by the back of his shirt. "Everyone follow Francis," he said as he dragged Harry2 with him. Draco stood up. He paused a moment to wink at Harry, grab the Mirror of Rebounds, and then bound after the others. They weaved through the crowded inn, jostling against moving patrons, tripping over the extended feet of some who relaxed or lingered over their lunch. 

     Harry stirred out of his deep thoughts. He looked around for the others, realized they were bunching together at the fireplace, and jumped to his feet. He scrambled around other people to join his comrades. "Wait!" he said as he stopped at Francis' side. "There is something I have to say before we go to Dinsmore." He knotted his hands together and shuffled his feet as Francis centered his attention on him. "I did dream about this place before, and I did dream of meeting Tom Riddle--this good Tom Riddle. It's just that, well, I told him about us in one of the dreams." 

     Francis' expression remained the same; open and ready for information. Harry took a steady breath. "Remember in the second reality we jumped into, we watched that Quidditch game and I crashed into myself and we both blacked out?" Francis nodded. "Well, I dreamed about this Tom Riddle, and we talked and he said that he had so much time and I could talk myself hoarse with explaining what was going on in my life." Harry shrugged helplessly. "So I did. He doesn't know of anything that took place when we went jumping again, because I haven't told him." 

     Francis exchanged a quick look with Severus. "Well, Harry," he said. "Since this is a good Tom Riddle, I don't believe we have to worry about damage you may have inadvertently caused." He grinned suddenly. "Indeed, you probably saved us some time." 

     Harry felt tenseness from his shoulders and chest disappear. He smiled gratefully at Francis. 

     "Still and all," Francis patted him on the shoulder as an odd look appeared in his eyes, "I wish you had told me about this earlier. Now, follow my lead," he said as he stepped into the fireplace. He dropped a handful of floo powder. "Dinsmore." He disappeared with a puff of smoke. 

     Severus floated over to the side of the fireplace and crossed his arms. He glared at the others, waiting for someone to volunteer going next. 

     Harry2 pushed Draco forward. Draco glowered at Harry as he took a handful of floo powder. He followed Francis' suit. Harry stepped forward to be next. As he grabbed a handful of floo powder, Severus' ghostly hand enclosed over his. Harry gasped at the. 

     "Harry," Severus warned him quietly, "be careful. No matter if this is a good Tom Riddle or not, you will always remain the unknown agenda to him." Severus turned his head to look at Harry2. "And that goes especially for you too. You are the Boys-Who-Lived; the only ones to somehow survive the Killing Curse that Voldemort cast." 

     Harry2 shrugged. "I am what I am," he said in explanation of himself. He reached for the floo powder just as Harry released his own and said, "Dinsmore." 

     Harry flipped head over heels in the floo. He felt his stomach cringe and then crawl up his throat in an effort to hide from the spinning dizziness. The spinning and wayward imbalance stopped when he was spat out of the Floo network with a slight scattering of ashes across a gleaming wooden floor. Draco stood before Harry, his hair gray with soot and ashes as he tried to brush his robes clean. Next to Draco on the floor was Francis, who hacked and coughed with one hand at the base of his throat. 

     "Are you all right?" Harry asked as he reached out to touch Francis' shoulder. Francis barely nodded in reply. 

     Draco answered for Francis. "He got quite a lungful of soot," he explained, "being the first one to use this fireplace in, oh, I'd suppose ten years." 

     "Oh." Harry stood upright and looked down at himself. He was gray with soot too. He patted the front of his robes and a cloud of soot drifted off him. He looked around at the rich wood paneling and flooring. The ceiling was made up of tiling with an intrinsic floral design, and at each corner the ceiling met the wall with a curved rose-like design as a rounded corner. Except for a small table that stood next to the fireplace, the mirror above it, and an empty shoe and coat rack against one wall, the room was empty. The fireplace itself was made up of different colored bricks, in a pattern that alternated color like the red-brown of the floor and walls, and pale ivory of the ceiling. The mantling curled under with two sets of heavy brass candlesticks on either side. 

     Harry2 popped out of the fireplace then. Severus materialized above their heads. 

     "What's wrong with Francis?" Severus asked as he looked at the coughing Francis. 

     "A lungful of soot," Draco said again. He reached out to thump Francis between his shoulders. 

     "A MESS!" a tiny voice shrieked from the side of the room. The others jumped at the sound and stared guiltily at one another. "YOUSE MADE A MESS!!" A gray little figure bolted over to their sides and began to pound angrily on the floor. "YOUSE MADE A MESS IN PINKY'S PAULOR!" The gray little figure turned out to be a very enraged house elf that wore a precarious wig of blonde curls and the poofiest, laciest monstrosity of a pink dress Harry had ever seen. The house elf threw herself on the floor and wailed. 

     "Pinky." Tom Riddle stepped through a doorway across the room. "Is that any way to greet guests who come through the floo?" 

     The house elf sniffed. "No, master," she said. She stood up and shook a tiny finger at the visitors. "Youse wipe your feet on carpet." With a sniff, she magicked up on a miniature dustpan and broom, and began to sweep up the soot and ashes. 

     "Pinky." She turned back to Tom Riddle expectedly. "It is my fault; I gave them permission to use a floo that has not been in use for many years." 

     She sniffed disapprovingly and went back to cleaning. Tom Riddle waved his wand and muttered a cleaning charm. The ashes and soot disappeared from the reality jumpers' clothes. "Come with me," he said. "Pinky cares little for people who are underfoot." He turned and exited off to the left of the parlor. 

     "Under where?" Harry2 asked as he pointedly looked at Pinky, who only came to his knee if she stood on tiptoe. Severus grabbed him by the back of his shirt. 

     "Come along," Severus muttered beneath his breath as he dragged Harry2 along. 

     "Where do we put these?" Francis asked Tom as he pointed at Pandora's Box and then the Mirror of Rebounds. "It's not safe to carry them around everywhere, so I figure we can leave them somewhere for now." 

     Tom gestured to the small table next to the fireplace. "That would do," he said. 

     Draco and Francis placed the Mirror of Rebounds and Pandora's box on the table, and then fell in to the step with the others. 

     "That," said Draco to no one in particular as he looked over his shoulder at Pinky, "is one overindulged house elf." 

     Riddle stepped around one corner where he had been waiting and nearly walked through Severus. "Agreeably," he said to Draco. "However, Pinky was a tiny baby when she was given to my wife. Pinky was small enough to fit into my hand without a problem, and my wife was instantly protective of her. Winded up spoiling her rotten." He shrugged. "I haven't had the heart to correct Pinky's behavior." 

     Francis gnawed on his lip. Riddle looked at him with a suspicious twinkle of amusement in his eye. "You have something on your mind." Riddle's statement was simple, and not meant to mock anyone. It was merely a persuasion for information. 

     "Without being rude," said Francis as he fiddled with his goggles, "because I don't mean to pry by all means, who is your wife?" 

     "Was," Riddle corrected. The twinkle of amusement gave way to something far darker. "Pandora died twelve years ago." 

     Francis listlessly dropped his hand. "Oh." 

     Riddle turned away from him. "Francis," he said with a slight hint of wry mockery, "did you really expect I would leave Pandora, a very intelligent and, well, exceedingly _rich _witch as a widow after you insisted upon flying a broom only to fall off of it and break your neck?" He tapped the side of his nose. "To my credit, I allowed for two years of mourning before I began to court her." He paused a moment. "Granted, there were others who showed less respect for a widow in mourning as I did." He smiled wickedly. "I took care of such tactlessness." 

     "Um." Francis considered what he had been told. "You wouldn't have anything to do with my being on that broom, would it?" he asked suspiciously. "I noticed that I always winded up dying like that in every reality where I asked after my fate. I don't know why I would fly on a broom when I can't stand heights in the least." 

     Riddle looked over his shoulder. A secret smile twisted his lips. Wordlessly, he looked away and began walking forward. "Come," he said again. "We have an important discussion that I would prefer we speak of immediately." 

     As they followed Riddle, Harry found himself astonished by the trappings of Dinsmore. Both Francis and Severus had lived in Dinsmore, and seemed neither surprised nor amazed by their current surroundings. Draco looked distracted, but Harry supposed it was because Dinsmore may not have been very different from his own family manor. Harry2, raised by Marcia, was simply impossible to faze. Harry did not think he had ever actually seen Harry2 show intense emotions, although Draco seemed to be aggravating him as of lately. 

     All the walls and floors of Dinsmore were crafted from a wood with a rich mahogany shade of color. Borders along the edge of the ceiling and the curtains that covered stained glass windows were the color of ivory with a small amount of green for edging. There were various vases filled with fresh flowers or dried flowers on windowsills. Little shelves contained various statuettes, figurines, and sculptures of all sorts. Tapestries covered entire walls with their depicted scenes of wildlife, country, wizards and witches casting spells. Paintings were everywhere. By the time they had swept through another hallway lined with pictures inside gilded frames, Harry realized that past occupants of Dinsmore had a passion for art. 

     He said as much to Severus, who floated a little to the front and left of him. 

     Severus nodded in agreement. "Snapes cared to surround themselves with the finer arts. I suppose that if we had to have junk, because it is inevitable how old families and their houses tend to collect junk, it may as well be pleasant to look at." 

     Draco assessed some of the tapestries with a critical eye. "Some of this 'junk' is priceless," he said. 

     No one said anything after that as they continued their journey through Dinsmore to wherever Tom Riddle was taking them. Francis and Severus, being the only other people who knew their way around Dinsmore, may have known where they were going. Neither of them looked as if they found something suspecting, although, with Severus' pinched face, it was hard to tell. 

     Tom Riddle finally opened one door that led to downward stairs. He held his hand aloft as he descended them, and a small flame appeared at his fingertips. The flame was just enough to cast light for them to see by without tripping and falling down the stairs. Down the stairs and through a few passageways, they entered what Harry recognized to be the small room he talked to Riddle twice before in. Across the room was an opening that led down book-covered walls. 

     Riddle used his flame to light a brace of candles on his desk. He transfigured a few papers into chairs for everyone to sit upon before he sat down behind his desk. 

     Francis looked around with a lonely light in his eyes. "The catacombs. I noticed that not a single thing has changed between this Dinsmore and the Dinsmore that I lived in." He appeared to be recalling fond memories for several moments as he examined different things before he moved and sat down across from Tom. The others followed suit. 

     Harry noticed how the only seat available for him was next to Draco. With a resigned sigh, he sat down in it and did his best to ignore the bright smile Draco sent him. Tom waited a moment for the reality jumpers to wiggle about in their seats until they were comfortable before speaking. 

     "What's in it for me?" It was a simple enough question, but a stormy look in his eye seemed that the answer of the question would determine the outcome of his decision. 

     Francis played about with the stem of his glasses as he looked around. "I haven't seen Dinsmore in what seems to be years." He paused a moment. "Actually, it has been years." He folded his hands in his lap. "I'll probably never see Dinsmore again. Tell me," he leaned back against his chair, "how much do you love Dinsmore?" 

     Riddle frowned. "Are you trying to change the subject?" 

     Francis shrugged. "It depends on where I am trying to take the current subject. Either way, I'm probably a dead man. Not," he hastily added before Severus could interrupt, "that I wasn't before, because I have been, mostly through falling off a broom I never knew I was _stupid_ enough to get on, and breaking my neck like I always feared I would!" He paused for a breath of air. "The direction I'm trying to take is this: separate realities are set up like a row of dominos. When one reality topples, it brings all the others down. I haven't quite figured out the mechanics behind it, but apparently if you destroy one reality, all of the Universe is going to follow along. You are the only one who can stop yourself. Do you love Dinsmore? Do you want to see it destroyed through something _you _did?" 

     Riddle put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. His fingers laced together in a bridge and he rested his chin on the bridge. He observed Francis with thoughtful, knowing eyes. "On whose authority do you have this?" 

     "Two people." Francis held two fingers up and wiggled them. "One is Cousin Quigley. It's impossible to tell if he is a reliable source or not though. It's not that he has ever misled us before with lies, but he omits information that I _know _he has. The other is Pandora. She's the one who told us that finding you was the key to it all. I don't know why either, but you can't go wrong with her telling a person what they're supposed to do." He gestured to Riddle. "Perhaps you know why Pandora said finding you was the key to it all?" 

     Riddle's eyes shifted over to Harry. "What of you?" he asked softly. 

     Harry's eyes grew wide behind his glasses. "Me?" He shrugged. "I-I don't know. Pandora just said that I couldn't stop Voldemort because he and I are mirror reflections of one another." Riddle nodded his head; Harry had already told him of this. "The only one who can stop you is you." 

     Riddle dropped his hands and leaned back. "I want to speak with you more of this." His eyes flickered over the others. "Alone," he added darkly. Severus and Draco bristled threateningly. Francis just shrugged his shoulders and stood up. 

     "I wouldn't mind exploring Dinsmore some more." Francis looked over to the side. "Come on," he said. Draco and Severus glared at him. Harry2 stood up and moved to stand by his side. 

     Harry2 made a scooping motion with his hands. "Does anyone feel like taking Tom Riddle one-on-one?" he asked. Riddle's eyebrows rose inquiringly. "He calls himself Tom Riddle and not Voldemort. We, as in Harry Potter, do not exist in this reality. Tom Riddle's power was never disrupted. I suppose that makes him more powerful that Voldemort, or something, because he never had to recover from dying. Sort of." 

     "Are you saying," said Draco, "that he's strong enough to kill us all if he wanted to?" 

     "He's saying," said Riddle, "that I won't kill Harry while we are alone. If I meant to kill you before, then I would have already." 

     They looked at Harry2 with uncertainty. "Well," began Draco with uncertainty, "what if he does kill us?" 

     Harry2 gave Draco a mirthless, toothy grin. "Then he gets to put up with mom, and he can't kill her!"   
  
  
  


     "Nandin! Nandin!" Marcia skidded to a halt at her brother's side and nearly fell over. "Nandin! Sirius is missing! I can't fi--what are you doing with my brownies?" 

     As a rule, Marcia and Nandin tried to act as typical brother and sister. Their history was a complex mish-mash of what-was and what-really-happened-before-Marcia-changed-it-all and what-have-you's. Because of their pasts, being typical brother and sister did not work. Their adopted mother had explained that siblings made fun of each other, but got away with it because they trusted one another enough to know it was merely good-natured teasing. They took their mother's words to heart. 

     Marcia was sure that flinging one's sister's brownies at lurking Death Eaters outside the shadows of Hogwarts went beyond good-natured teasing though. 

     "They are very useful," Nandin said solemnly. "I shall have to get the recipe from you." 

     Marcia squinted at him. She had a sneaking suspicion that he was mocking her, but no proof of it. But there was something she came to ask him about, something important . . . 

     Nandin peered into the darkness outside the window. Though the perimeters of protection around Hogwarts no longer existed, multiple charms woven into the stonewalls protected against entrance of any who had ill intent for someone within the castle. Thus far, it had proven to be effective against Voldemort's invasion. 

     Having two demons who were formerly professional killers also helped. 

     "I was going to ask you something," Marcia muttered. 

     "About Sirius." Nandin threw another brownie into the darkness. It hit something with a resounding thunk, followed by the sounds of a pained scream and a collapsing body. 

     "Yeah! That's it! I can't find him!" 

     Nandin ignored Marcia until she threw her arms around his waist in a desperate hug. "Please! You have a better nose than me!" He rolled his eyes and pushed her away. Her hands waved wildly around before she attached herself to his arm. "I'm worried because I went to look for Snape and then Sirius wasn't where he was supposed to be!" She remained firmly attached to Nandin's arm even when he forced his sword scabbard between her and him and tried to pry her loose. "I'll only let go unless you agree to help me!" 

     Nandin considered knocking Marcia over the head with one of her brownies. Marcia buried her face in the crook of his elbow. 

     "I'll tell mom if you don't!" 

     Nandin considered that. They had been trying to avoid the family ever since Harry2 left four years ago, because the less their warlike family knew about how he and Marcia were holed up together in Hogwarts, under siege by Voldemort, the less likely the family would decide to "rescue" them. Marcia was already in enough trouble for involving her family in Harry2's third year. No one had wanted to risk Harry2's leaving to have Christmas with family, so family was given permission to come to Hogwarts for Christmas. 

     It was a mistake Dumbledore was not going to repeat any time soon. Marcia, her parents, and her mother's mother were the least violent, and most easy-going and mild-mannered, of all. Surrounded by demons, druids, and miscellaneous creatures that could only exist in nightmares, Dumbledore believed Harry was safe (which he was right) and had reluctantly allowed Harry2 and his family to go to Hogsmeade for an afternoon out. It had only taken one misconception on Rufus Runeking's part to have the most violent family members (approximately 82% of the family) destroy half of Hogsmeade before Marcia could fetch her mother to make them stop. 

     The Runekings and close relatives thereof thrived upon violence. If one family member was in trouble, the rest migrated to that family member's side for the chance of a fight. While it would admittedly save a lot of trouble in the grand scheme of things for family to help, Dumbledore wanted avoid as little trouble as possible (especially now that the Wild Hunt was freed upon an admittedly sinful world) and minimal bloodshed. 

     It was only by Marcia's word that Dumbledore knew Harry2 to be safe. In order to keep the rest of the wizarding world happy, they had concocted a story about Harry2 leaving to train for a fight against Voldemort. Considering Harry2's tattoo and the power behind it, the wizarding world believed them. In the mean time, Marcia blackmailed Nandin into filling in for Harry in the Fight For Good. Ultimately, Nandin could honestly say he did not give a damn so long as he was fed and got to kill something regularly. 

     "Would you really tell?" Nandin asked as he paused in his attempt to pry Marcia free. 

     "Yes, I would, and you know I would!" 

     Nandin sighed. "Fine, fine." Marcia unattached herself. She smiled brightly at Nandin as he threw one last brownie into the darkness. Someone screamed a heartbeat after a dry crunch. "Where was the last place you saw Sirius?" 

     "Down in the dungeon." Marcia pointed vaguely off to the left. Nandin swept past her and made his way to the darker depths of Hogwarts. Marcia trailed behind him. Nandin personally hated the dungeons and tried to avoid them if possible. The heavy scents of Snape's various potion ingredients permeated and assailed Nandin's olfactory senses. After only a few minutes, he could feel a migraine beginning to pound at his temples. He growled deep in his throat and vowed to take his misery out on something preferably alive. 

     One scent floated freely above the others. It smelled something like his adopted mother's, a light, heady scent of phoenix plumage. Remembering Sirius' odd little pair of wings, Nandin followed the scent carefully. It led him to a door, which he readily opened. 

     Snape looked up from his writing. "What do you two think you are doing?" he demanded suspiciously. Nandin followed the scent up to the garbage. "There." He pointed at the garbage. Marcia ran over to it. 

     "Sirius?" she asked as she peered into the depths. "Why are you--AHHHH! SIRIUS!" She dived into the garbage can that was nearly as tall as she was. Her legs dangled in the air a moment before she pulled out with a crumpled little figure. She dropped it onto the palm of her hand. Sirius groaned and managed to open one eye to look at her with. "He's been hurt!" She whipped around to face Snape. "What did you do to Sirius?" 

     Snape gritted his teeth. "I didn't do anything," he said. Marcia thrust the creature she held out to him. 

     "You did too! Look what you did!" 

     Snape started to shove her hand away and froze. Sirius glared up at him. Before Snape could find something suitably scathing to say, Nandin grabbed Marcia by the back of her jumper and hauled her out of the room. Snape looked up at the ceiling. "James Potter," he hissed beneath his breath, "of all the stupid things that you did while you existed here on Earth, giving that woman your brat won the booby prize." 

     He resumed his sorting through papers. From across the room, a single empty jar floated off its shelf into the air. It hurled across the room and bounced off Snape's head.   
  
  
  


     Tom Riddle closed his eyes and folded his hands in his lap as the others left. Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. Riddle's head tilted to the side, his eyes still closed. "What's happened since the last we met?" he asked. 

     Harry shrugged. "Pretty much the same thing. We jumped through realities, met a lot of people who made out in different corners, forced Cousin Quigley into answering a few of our questions, which only left us with a few more, winded up here. As you may have noticed, we have companions I never mentioned before. The first one is Draco. In _my _reality, he's a sharp pain in the you-know-where." At that, Riddle cracked one eye open at Harry as his lips twisted in amusement. Harry threw his arms wide. "It's the truth! In _his_ reality, he's still that sharp pain. He married me--his reality's me, that is--who then killed you, which killed me, and when we came along, that reality was worse off because of a snake you transfigured into a woman." 

     Both of Riddle's eyes shot open. "Do you know the name of the snake?" 

     "Nagini." Riddle studied Harry closely. "And then the second person is Harry2, who is me, except a different me. He's a demon." 

     Riddle slowly sat up straight in his chair. "I think you best start from the beginning and work your way here slowly."   
  
  
  


     Harry was sure more than an hour had passed before Tom Riddle interrupted him. "Are you sure that there was a pair of hands that hovered over the scene of your Cousin Quigley and the Bloody Baron?" he asked. 

     Harry nodded. "Positive. While I realize that I was in a position where my senses would not at all be reliable, I am very sure that I did indeed see a pair of hands hover over the scene of Cousin Quigley and the Bloody Baron cutting the ribbons. It looked like someone was practicing divinations with a crystal ball." He squirmed uncomfortably under Riddle's all-knowing eyes. 

     Riddle waved his hand. "Go on," he said, sounding weary. Harry rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses for a moment before he resumed. 

     Riddle said nothing more until Harry finished. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and stood up. "Tell me," he said as he walked around the desk to Harry's side, "about Cousin Quigley. Why do you think he is so concerned about doing what he is doing?" 

     Harry honestly believed that Cousin Quigley was doing what he felt he could to make sure things turned out safe, and he said as much. "He's not doing it the right way, because that was impossible for anyone to do; but a safe way, so that the Universe lived. I don't know why he doesn't tell us. There may be other groups or parties involved, since I don't know where Pandora comes in and who's blocking her from communicating fully." 

     Riddle walked over to the wall. Harry watched as he reached out and ran his finger down one crease in the wall. Looking closer at the wall, Harry suddenly realized that Riddle stood before a closet that was cleverly blended into the rest of the wall. Riddle pressed one spot and there was a click. The closet door swung open silently. He reached into the dark depths and stopped, with his hand extended forward, and looked over his shoulder at Harry. 

     "Tell me," he said as he withdrew something from the darkness and hid it behind his back as he walked over to Harry's side again, "since Pandora seems to be very involved and very influential in what happens, what do you suppose she would do?" 

     Harry smiled brightly at Riddle. "I don't suppose; I know! She'd get you to help." 

     "Hmm." Riddle withdrew what he had behind his back and dropped it into Harry's lap. "Easily enough." He turned and walked away. "There are so many matters to arrange _if _I leave though." 

     Harry jumped to his feet and hurried to keep up with Riddle's swiftly retreating figure. He glanced down at what Riddle had given him, and stumbled to a stop in surprise. It was Pandora's cane. He laughed at the sight of the familiar curved head and dark brown wood. He had seen it propped up against a crumbling rock of hope, in the hands of Pandora herself, and had even held it himself the last time he dreamed his way into Dinsmore. "She's the key, isn't she?" he yelled. 

     Riddle glanced over his shoulder at Harry. The amusement on his face was a clear enough answer. 


	20. Chapter 20

     They sat together at a small dining table covered with exotic dishes of various meats, noodles, and vegetables; usually in combinations with different spices and flavorings. Francis and Tom Riddle eyed one another across the table from where Severus had made them sit as far apart from each other as possible. Harry, Harry2, and Draco were the only ones concerned with the meal. Francis just played around with his food and cast Riddle withering glances. Riddle leaned his chair back and propped his feet up on the chair across from him. Severus arbitrated between them, stiffly floating in such a way as to imply that if Riddle or Francis were to try and speak to one another, something Terrible Would Happen. 

     Everyone knew Riddle only tolerated Severus' behavior out of amusement and little else. p>    

     Severus snorted. "Are you going to grow up?" he asked Francis darkly. "This is an entirely different realm, and this is a different Tom Riddle who married a different Pandora." 

     Francis waved Severus' comment away. "Do you mind?" he asked as he glared through him at Riddle. "Allow me this single sulk for the night before I ignore what has happened to me because of him in the first place and must work together with him to save the Universe." Francis scrunched his face up thoughtfully. "Save the Universe," he muttered to himself. He made a face. "That sounds rather corny, doesn't it?" 

     Severus merely folded his legs beneath himself, crossed his arms before his chest, and scowled at no one in particular. The only sounds for a few minutes afterward were the click of silverware against fine porcelain, and Harry2 chewing with his mouth open. 

     Severus watched Harry2's somewhat tactless dinner manners. "Get your elbows off the table," he said finally. 

     "Can't," Harry2 mumbled a reply around a mouthful of buttered squash. "They're supporting my arms, which are holding my utensils, which I'm using to eat with." 

     "Didn't that mother of yours teach you anything?" 

     Harry2 swallowed and raked another forkful of buttered squash into his mouth. "It was every demon for him or herself, especially when there were actual edible vitals on the table. When family came calling, fending for myself either worsened or eased, depending if the family that came calling could cook or not." Harry2 shrugged. "Even then I get into trouble though," he added. 

     Harry reached across Draco to grab the salt shaker. "How so?" he asked as he sprinkled salt over his potatoes. "Is all your family like Marcia?" 

     "Some are better, some are worse. Uncle Nandin is more dangerous to be around, but at least he can cook, and he tends to get rid of trouble rather than attract it. Grandmother and Grandfather are the best of the bunch. Grandmother's got a lot of money, and Grandfather is just young enough to be fun to be around with, but old enough for me to respect as an elder. My aunts Adora and Heather . . ." Harry2 shook his head. "You have to understand," he said as he poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice, "I love my family. I think they're great, and they're the best sort of family an orphan like me could have been adopted into. I just wouldn't mind if some of them were a little more distant though, both literally and figuratively." 

     "I can tell where this is going," Francis said knowingly. He leaned forward. "What did some of your relatives do?" 

     "See, Mom isn't supposed to get involved with Voldemort in any shape, way or form, even when it comes to me. The Beast has declared it thus, and the Beast is the only creature in any dimension or realm Mom can admit to being frightened of for her own sake. That's saying a lot, too. Anyway, in the summer after _she _released the Wild Hunt, the Beast stepped forward to punish her for getting involved. He took the shadows of the Wild Hunt of old and dumped them and Mom together in a never-ending pathway. Mom's duty was to outrun the Wild Hunt. It took her a whole summer to outrun and escape the Wild Hunt. In the time she was gone, Aunt Adora and Aunt Heather decided they needed to watch after me in the time that Mom was gone." 

     Harry2 grimaced as he ate a few more spoonfuls of buttered squash. Harry reached across Draco for the pepper shaker. 

     "You know, you could have asked," Draco said with a frown. 

     Harry ignored him. As he shook pepper onto his mashed potatoes, he saw Riddle studying Harry2 intently. Harry glanced over in time to see Harry2's tattoo blink its ruby-red eyes. 

     Harry2 waited to continue until he had swallowed. "Aunt Adora and Aunt Heather wrecked my whole summer," he replied with a shadow of a pout. "While they can cook over a fire or a wood stove, they blew up mom's kitchen stove because they didn't understand how to use electricity; they blew up the microwave because they put a metal can of pineapple into it; they tampered with the septic system so even now the toilet in the house tends to overflow at the most inopportune times. Once they decided to drive to the market for groceries. They drove the wrong way on a one-way street--in reverse! They drove on the sidewalk, they flattened crossing ducks, they knocked over a fire hydrant, which tore out the bottom of their car. They literally lost the transmission while idling at a red traffic light." 

     Francis grinned. "I thought my relatives were bad. My cousins Herbert and Myron were pretty strange though, especially since they were just Muggles and didn't have the excuse of magic-based eccentricity." 

     Harry2 threw his arms up in the air. "When the police came to arrest them, Aunt Heather accidentally unleashed a triad of demons that she was supposed to be guarding. They proceeded to wreak havoc on London. That was hell trying to gather them up again, because the Beast was the one who had given them to Aunt Heather in the first place. When the Ministry of Magic leaned of what happened, I got into trouble for it. My grandmother had to leave her kingdom to bail me out of the penitentiary cell I was being held in until a 'responsible' adult picked me up. The Ministry interrogated grandmother for four and a half hours until they deemed her safer than the two whacked-out aunts who got me into the trouble in the first place. She promised to talk to Dumbledore about me since Mom wasn't home. When she did, Dumbledore sent Professor Hooch to watch me, and grandmother removed Aunt Adora and Aunt Heather from the place. The professor and I tried to clean up the kitchen, which was a mess because Aunt Heather and Aunt Adora don't know how to run a dishwasher and they disagreed the night before over what to make for supper, and that had escalated into a food fight." 

     "Some family," Draco said with a hint of trepidation. 

     Harry2 held up his index finger. "Here's the clincher though," he said. "Mom came home just after Professor Hooch and I began our cleanup on the kitchen. She didn't notice Professor Hooch, who was in the bathroom fetching some cleaning supplies. Mom looked around the kitchen, looked at me, and said, 'Harry, if you can't take care of yourself while I'm gone, I'll have your Aunts Adora and Heather stay and look after you.'" Harry2 rolled his eyes. The others sat in stunned silence. 

     Riddle ran his finger along the rim of his wine glass. "Tell me," he said, "why do you call your mother Mom? It's rather odd choice of words for one of your background." 

     Harry2 jabbed the air with his spoon. "She always corrected me when I called her mum. She said that being called mum was reserved for my birth-mother. She was my adopted mother, and she wanted to be called mom. I guess it was a way for me to make a distinction between the two. Mom was always adamant in my knowing about my birth-parents. She used to hunt people down and make them tell me about my parents. When I was a wee kid, I was confused about why she did it. James and Lily Potter were dead, and Mom was the main force in my life. As a hindsight now, I see the roles they played in the past influenced part of my life when I reached Hogwarts." 

     "I see. And who is this Beast?" 

     Harry2 fell silent. He kept his eyes trained upon his plate for several long moments. He sighed finally and put his spoon down so he could pick up his fork. "The Beast," he said carefully as he stabbed at his noodle salad with his fork, "is a creature borne from the darkness at the beginning of the Time. I guess you could say He's the devil, if you believe in that sort of stuff, because He rules what people would consider to be Hell. He is the source of all Disorder, the Lord of Chaos. He's not necessarily the source of all evil, but only anything that contradicts Order." 

     "And what is the relationship between the Beast and your family?" 

     Harry2 shrugged. "I really can't say exactly. My adopted family is a guardian of sort to the outlets of the Beast's nature. Sometimes He's friendly to us, sometimes He's definitely not friendly. We generally like to leave Him alone because we rarely know what sort of mood He's in. We're just supposed to watch Him. At least, the druids of the family are." 

     Francis waved his fork in the air. "What exactly was that argument between you and your mother about the Wild Hunt?" 

     Riddle's eyes sharpened as his finger stilled at the edge of his glass. Harry2 did not seem to notice. "Well, in my fourth year, I was in the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. I admired Cedric for keeping up with me, even with my being a demon, so we took the cup together. It was a portkey that sent us to Voldemort who waited in a junk yard. Pah! I wouldn't have minded a graveyard. At least I'd have been in good company. Anyway, Mom had been watching the final task with Dumbledore, so when she saw me disappear, she went to Ron for help. See, my family acts as guardians against the Beast, but we all know it's a bit of a farce. If the Beast truly wanted to, He'd break us all into little tiny pieces." Harry2 looked directly at Riddle. "And don't you think of summoning Him to request for any power, you hear?" he asked. "The Beast does not take kindly to being used and would take it out on everyone, not just the person who summoned Him." 

     Riddle glared, clearly offended. "My power is my own," he said tightly. "Pure and untainted; I have the pride in knowing I am what I am for what I am, and not through siphoning it out of some other source." 

     "Whath happen'd th'n?" Draco asked Harry2 with his mouth full. 

     "The Beast forbade Mom to interfere with Voldemort and whatever he does. Even if I'm involved." Harry2 smiled suddenly. "Mom swore up and down that she would protect me, and even the Beast cannot make her break her vow. So she went to Ron, said, Look, Harry is going to get killed if we don't rescue him. She figured that if Ron 'was responsible' then she wouldn't get into any trouble. The Beast didn't believe her for one second. Anyway, she took Ron to the place where the Wild Hunt was chained, told him what to say and do to release them. When the Huntsman stepped forward, Ron told him they were to rescue me from Voldemort. Because Ron released the Wild Hunt--under Mom's guidance, of course--it regarded him as some sort of hero. 

     "So here I am, hiding from Voldemort and his ragged band of animated junk parts--he said that since his Death Eaters were too incompetent to do a simple little thing like capture me, he'd do it himself--and this horn sounds across the country side." He spread his hands wide. "Over the hill and down the side came these hounds flowing like silver. Behind them was the Huntsman. Ron is riding behind him, and Mom's in her crow form perched on the antlers." Harry paused to take a quick sip of his pumpkin juice. "The hounds scared off the other Deatheaters, and the last I saw of Voldemort, he and his band of animated junk parts were trying to outrun the hounds. I suspect he got away, if only because he managed to stay ahead of the Hunt until dawn." 

     "If," began Riddle, "the Wild Hunt was released, then I assume no one was powerful or pure enough to chain them up again. They are still roaming the countryside, free?" 

     "That's why everyone's so upset with Mom. The best the Ministry could do was trap the Wild Hunt in some magical perimeters so it can only be seen by, and attack, anyone with any hint of magic. Of course, Muggles carrying even an object with the smallest bit of magic are prone to being attacked still." 

     "Your Mom sounds quite," Riddle paused to think of a kind word, "interesting." 

     Draco swallowed. "You have no idea," he muttered darkly. He glowered at the sharp look Riddle gave him while Harry, seated next to Draco, flinched. 

     Riddle leaned forward. "And what of you, Mister Malfoy?" he asked with a slight hint of mockery. "Does it behoove you to know that we are related, even through marriage?" 

     Francis twitched and slumped depressingly over his plate. 

     Draco studied Riddle for a moment. "Well, it behooves me more to know Mom Runes is my mother-in-law. Of course, if you had your lovely pet Nagini around, I might be even more behooved, except I know that Nagini ate house elves. Unless Nagini was specifically trained not to munch on Pinky, then it's safe to assume that she's not around." 

     "Pandora did not care for animals inside the house," Riddle said. "If I have a snake, do you suppose, given that animals were not to belong within Dinsmore, that I would keep something like this 'Nagini' outside in the garden? The garden would be amazingly free of such pesky creatures such as garden gnomes." 

     Draco looked thoughtful. "Nah," he said. He took a bite of spiced vegetables. 

     "Just because I have always wanted to ask you this," said Severus to Riddle as the man reached for his wine glass, "what made you choose a skull and a snake for your dark mark?" 

     Riddle froze with the wine glass halfway to his lips. "I beg your pardon?" 

     "Dark mark." Severus pulled back his sleeve to show Riddle the dark mark he still bore. Riddle leaned over to peer closely at it. The others froze at the sight of the transparent mark on Severus' arm. 

     "Why do you still have that?" Francis inquired as he craned his neck to see. "It's supposed to fade with death." 

     "Voldemort's death," Severus replied coldly. "Wherever Voldemort lives, so does my mark appear." 

     Riddle leaned away from Severus. "Atrocious looking thing," he said with a pointed shudder. "I believe that was the point," Severus said. 

     "Oh, I imagine so." Riddle took a sip. "But it's not very aesthetically appealing, and a skull is too passé to actually be original." He glanced sideways at Severus. "Really, am I a pirate or am I a dark wizard?" It was not a question to be answered, so no one did. 

     The rest of the meal was finished in silence. Riddle stood up. "Now that you have all eaten," he said as he circulated around the table, his fingertips running over the high backs of the chairs everyone sat in, "and you are all comfortable," he passed over Francis' chair without touching it, "I ask you again: why should I help you? What's in it for me?" He stopped and looked pointedly at Harry. "Ah, child." He walked over to the back of Harry's chair and drooped over the top of it. His fingertips brushed over Harry's upper arm. "This is a question for you to answer. Pandora is not the key. You are. She merely wrapped you up in pretty paper, tied it with a curly ribbon, and sent it along to me to unwrap and use." 

     Harry gave Riddle a puzzled expression. "But you have to help," he said. "Our whole purpose of being here is to get you." 

     "Say that I did come," Riddle began, "how would I get back? Do any of you have any intention whatsoever of bringing me back home, to the life I made for myself? And how do I destroy this evil me who would destroy the world? Am I not powerful enough to stop his wreckage from affecting my own reality?" He dropped his hand onto Harry's hair. The tip of his middle finger caressed Harry's scar. "Why?" he asked. "Why does the only person to have somehow survived the Killing Curse seek out the very person who cast it?" He straightened upward. "Come now." His eyes traveled over the others. "Half of you are self-sacrificing Gryffindors, the other half of you are self-serving Slytherins. I'm sure that if you put your heads together, you could find a way to defeat your Voldemort without my help. Even just to save Harry." 

     Francis stood up. "So, it's not going to be possibly to, well, bully you into joining us somehow?" Tom Riddle shook his head. Francis fiddled with his goggles. "Then I guess the only way to somehow convince you to come along and help us is to see what the Mirror of Rebounds has to tell us. All answers can be found there," he said knowingly, "both past and, be that as it may, the future." 

     "The future is only possible," grumbled Severus, "if Cousin Quigley uses it." 

     Francis started to the door. "So?" he asked over his shoulder. "Cousin Quigley seems to be inside the Mirror of Rebounds. I'm sure he won't mind if we ask him to give Tom Riddle a few reasons why he should come with us since Cousin Quigley is the person who insists we must save the Universe." 

     "Wait." The others turned to Draco, who jumped to his feet and hurried to Riddle's side. "I find I must ask this before we do anything else," he said firmly. "Transfigure me into a girl." 

     Riddle's eyebrow arched as the others looked at Draco as if he had just declared himself the new Dark Wizard of the Universe and Riddle was to be his love slave. "What?" 

     "Transfigure me into a girl. Since Harry and Harry have such a difficulty accepting me as a possible sweetheart since I'm a guy, then maybe they would have a better time accepting me as if I'm a girl. I think you're the only person who can fully transfigure me into a girl without some sort of accident occurring." 

     "That's it!" Francis jumped up and down excitedly. "That's it!" 

     Draco looked offended. "You know, it shouldn't matter if I wanted to be a girl or not. Francis, I find such an excited attitude disturbingly unsupportive." 

     Francis waved his words away. "No, no." He turned to Severus. "Remember how we were talking about the disguise Harry needed so he wouldn't be attacked?" Severus and Harry looked lost. Francis frowned. "You remember! It was in that reality where Dumbledore made us wait for my voice to recover." 

     "Oh." Severus nodded. "Yes?" 

     "This is the disguise! Harry can be a girl!" 

     "WHAT?" Harry winced at the sound of his own voice. He had not been able to speak that high since before his voice changed. "I will _not_ be a girl!" 

     Harry2 pointed at Harry. "You do mean just him, right?" 

     "Harry," Francis stepped close to Harry. He reached out to place his hand on Harry's upper arm. "We've got to talk Tom Riddle into joining us, and when we start jumping realities again . . . Well, you have to keep in mind how many realities we passed through where no one took kindly to our being there. We're going to have to pass through them again, even if it'll be much quicker than last time. Some of them will be even unfriendlier because we passed through them. Harry is different enough not to be mistaken as you if he doesn't stand next to you or wear glasses. Severus can hide because he's a ghost, Draco's like Harry; different. No one under the age of sixty could recognize me, or even Tom." Francis turned to Riddle. "That is, of course, if you did not mind transfiguring Harry into a girl." 

     Riddle cocked his head to the side. "Why can't you do it?" he asked. 

     "Well, I imagine that I could, if I had the power to." 

     "It's just a transfiguration though," Harry2 said. Harry glared at him. 

     "A complex one," Francis explained. "It takes a great deal more concentration and a great deal more power and control to transfigure a complex life form--and a human being is more complex than the little animals you had to work with in Transfiguration--into another complex life form. That's why being an animagus takes a great deal of skill. It takes more power and control to transfigure an animate creature into a different animate creature, rather than an animate creature into an inanimate object. And your innate magic would also have to be overcome; it would work against me." He turned to Riddle. "You though. We all know you're powerful enough not to be even bothered by such a thing." 

     "But what if I don't want to become a girl?" Harry was torn between outrage that Francis would even consider such an idea, and fright that Francis would see his idea carried through. 

     "Harry." Francis turned to him. "How many realities did we Jump through that were hostile?" 

     "Um . . . More than thirty." 

     "And when we finally get back to our reality, we might have to hide you from Voldemort while Riddle does what he needs to do." 

     "_If _I go," Riddle reminded them. 

     "But I don't want to be a girl!" 

     "Shaddup," Severus said from where he floated next to the dining table. "If you're going to whine like a girl, you may as well become a girl." 

     Harry twisted around to glare at him. "Easy enough for you to say!" he snapped. "You're dead!" 

    Severus turned away with a grimace. "Why does everyone seem to delight in reminding me that?" he grumbled as he crossed his arms before himself. 

     Draco leaned against the wall. "Yada yada yada. Listen to you guys fight. Let's take a vote for Harry becoming a girl. Those in favor?" He raised his hand. "Vold--Riddle can't vote though. He has to remain the neutral voice." 

     Harry fumed as Severus and Francis raised their hands. After a moment of quiet deliberation, Harry2 raised his hand as well. Harry rounded on him. "What are you thinking?" he demanded. 

     "Hey," said Harry2 with a shrug, "better you than me." He paused a moment. "Or even Draco for that matter," he added as an afterthought. 

     Harry fumed for a moment. "Fine!" he decided. "Just fine!" He glared at Francis. "As soon as this matter is finished though, I get transfigured back into myself." 

     Francis nodded. "Of course. It's only a temporary solution after all." 

     "This," the Bloody Baron popped into their existence with a wickedly gleeful look plastered on his face, "I've got to watch!" It took a moment for the others to get over their shock of seeing him. Harry was the first to recover. 

     "That," said Harry, "is so like you, popping up to get satisfaction from someone else's misery." 

     "How do you know?" the Bloody Baron asked defensively. "You don't know me, you can't make a judgment like that." 

     Harry's anger deflated slightly. "Oh. Well, you don't have to be so cheerful about it," he said. He crossed his arms before himself and glowered at Tom Riddle. "How long will this take?" he asked in a resigned voice. 

     "Not too long." Tom Riddle gave him a come-hither wave with his right hand. Harry reluctantly walked over to Riddle's side. As he moved, his companions moved off to the side. Harry and Riddle eyed one another. Riddle's expression was cool while Harry's was reluctant with a hint of panic. 

     "I don't think I'll like being a girl," Harry said. 

     "It," Riddle reached out and cupped Harry's face with his hands, "will only be temporary." 

     Riddle's power erupted forward, like a gigantic tsunami crashing down overhead. The wave of neon green magic slammed into other occupants of the room. Both Draco and Francis fell over backwards under the wave. Harry2 grunted and rolled his eyes as he fell back one step and braced himself against the assault. The Bloody Baron and Severus fluttered against the power, but remained otherwise still. The dishes on the table rattled as the curtains on the window fluttered. 

     Harry stiffly fell backwards, and then floated horizontally before Riddle as the power suspended him in the air. He tried to take a breath under the heavy layer of power, but it pressed all around him, like a tight blanket that hindered his movement. It was not painful. While the layer of power was uncomfortable, his scar tingled not unpleasantly. 

     "Watch my hand," Riddle whispered. His robes rippled as his power moved like the wind through the room. Francis, on the floor, grabbed his goggles before they were whipped off his head. Harry forced his eyes open against the pressure. There was something familiar about the broad palm and long fingers that hovered before his face. As Harry watched the hand, it got smaller and further away. 

    _ What's happening? _Harry thought to himself. He tried to reach out and grab Riddle's hand, but he could not move. From each wave of power that rippled through the room, Riddle peeled off a layer and wrapped it around Harry. 

     The layers were meant to protect Harry from anything that would influence the outcome of the transfiguration, and to act as a buffer against his own innate magic. 

     Matter can neither be destroyed nor created; only changed. Even magic had to obey this single law. In Transfiguration, matter is rearranged or dispersed as needed to recreate what was to be, but there is only one direction of magic, and that was from the person casting the transfiguration. Being an animagus is a dangerous thing. If not controlled completely, the matter would be arranged in irrevocable forms. Once the animagus form is decided and successfully complete by use of one's own magic, it is locked to become the permanent and only form. To do so otherwise would allow for dangerous influences and arrangements. 

     For Harry, this Transfiguration was more than the arrangement of his sexual organs. It had to be complete and sound. It had to happen with exact precision so as to incur as little irrevocable damage as possible. 

     There is only one difference between the male and female genders, and that is hormones, and the influence of hormones begins long before birth and on a level that one's own magic cannot influence. The hormones during the nine months of a fetus' development decide which gender the child would be, no matter if there is an X chromosome or a Y chromosome. If there is more estrogen, the female reproductive organs are developed. If there is more testosterone, the male reproductive organs are developed. An equality of both, or misbalance of either one is the culprit behind sexual birth defects. The one thing a mother should never hear the moment after labor is, "It's a girl/boy! . . . Wait. I think." 

     Once puberty is reached, it is hormones that allow for bone growth. In a girl, hormones come into play far faster than boys; hormones control fat deposition in the hips and breasts to give her a rounded figure. In a boy, whose hormones are slower and thus he is slower to reach maturity; hormones deepen the voice and allow facial hair growth. 

     Hormones allows for the different structures in the body, but also a difference in the brain. Girls generally links memories with their limbic system--the center for emotions. They are more adept with using the left side of their brain, where language is stored, and they produce two hormones exclusive to motherhood. 

     For Harry to become completely a girl, he would have to be reduced back to the simplest of human life forms--the sperm, and the egg--and then recreated from there with the X chromosome and estrogen being the influential hormone. Wrapped in the green layers of power, the others could not see Harry reduced from a fifteen year old adolescent boy to two single cells. From there, Tom Riddle's power would allow Harry to rapidly grow into his new form. Even then though, his scar remained. It, along with a single bright green spark, stubbornly latched onto the essence of Harry. 

     Harry's essence, his spirit and memories and all the matter of his fifteen-year-old body, absorbed safely into the layers of green where they would be kept while his brain and body was still yet to be formed. Harry floated listlessly about in them as he experienced life all over again. It felt familiar to him, warm and comfortable. 

     The layers protected Harry, but they did not stop him from Wandering from this reality, into a world where only the dead walked.   
  
  
  


     "You know, you _were_ supposed to be my son." 

     Harry stared at James for a long moment, uncomprehending of whom he saw. He shook his head to clear it, and then squinted. James was not very different from his pictures or even the time he had exited Voldemort's wand. He and Harry had the same rumpled black hair and lean bone structure. Here, James wore pinstriped trousers and a brown vest over a simple white dress shirt. They stood together on an endless background of baby-powder blue. 

     "I don't understand," Harry said finally. 

     James shrugged and looked off to the side. "Well, I guess you could now say you're my daughter." He grinned. "Doesn't matter though; I love you no matter which gender you are! Except I don't like the name Harriet. I was very adamant with your mother on that point. Harold is permissible, Harriet is out of the question." 

     "Oh." Harry's eyes flickered about his surroundings. There was just James and the background of baby-powder blue. Harry looked directly at James. "Are you real or just my imagination?" 

     Harry's eyes widened with surprise. He nodded as questions exploded in his mind and fought to hop onto his tongue. One question rose to the forefront and made it ahead of the others. "Who is Uncle Severus' godson?" 

     James' eyes twinkled behind his round glasses. "Oh dear." He covered his mouth and laughed softly. "Do I dare tell you?" 

     "Oh come on! Cousin Quigley knows and Uncle Severus knows, but both refuse to tell!" 

     James glanced from side to side. "Well, okay." He motioned Harry close. "Got to be careful," he said secretly, "you'll never know who's in hearing. It's--" 

     "_Who_ is in hearing?" Severus, looking solid rather than transparent, materialized behind James. 

     James pointed at Severus and sighed. "Like spoilsport here." 

     Severus glowered at James. "You're dead!" 

     James' eyebrow arched almost exactly as Severus' habitually did. "So are you." Severus opened his mouth to snap back, and froze. With a thoughtful frown, he closed his mouth with an audible click. "Harry," James draped a friendly arm over Harry's shoulders, "that has to be the first time I ever effectively shut him up." 

     "Give me a moment," Severus said through gritted teeth, "and I'll think of something suitably scathing in which to respond with." 

     "I don't doubt it." James winked at Harry. "Now, what was that question you had?" 

     Severus turned white. "You wouldn't dare tell!" 

     "You know I would." James laughed as he pushed away from Harry and ran across the blue surface with Severus in close chase. "It's Neville!" James laughingly yelled over his shoulder as he began to pull ahead Severus. "Neville Longbottom!" Harry stared after his father and uncle with amused shock. He closed his eyes and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them, he found himself gazing upward into Tom Riddle's wary eyes. 

     "Ah, you're awake." Riddle flicked his hand and righted Harry to his feet. Harry took one step forward, and nearly pitched forward on his face. Riddle grabbed Harry's shoulders and steadied him. "Careful. Your equilibrium is momentarily disrupted. Move slowly and easily." 

     Harry looked down at his feet. The two rounded lumps on his chest impeded his view. Harry stared at them in shock. A small thought trickled into his brain._ I'm a girl._ He--she--was he a boy or a girl? He still felt like a him, but from the current view, he was a she. "What am I?" he asked out loud. His voice was exactly like what it was before it broke during puberty. 

     Draco, from across the room, made a box with his fingers and looked through it at Harry. "Well," he said helpfully, "from my point of view, I'd say you are very feminine." 

     Next to Francis, Severus spoke up quietly. "How do you feel?" 

     Harry looked at Severus with surprise. "What are you doing here?" he--she?-- asked. 

     Severus frowned. "I Jumped here with the rest of you. Why shouldn't I be here?" 

     "But--oh, never mind." Harry looked down the length of his decidingly female body. _I guess this firmly makes me a she. _"What do we do now?" she asked. 

     "Are you fully adjusted to being female?" Francis asked. Harry, not understanding what Francis meant, shrugged wordlessly. Francis glanced over at Riddle. "What about his--er, her, um, monthly moments?" 

     Harry frowned. "Monthly moments?" That did not sound good. 

     Riddle smiled slightly. "It is inevitable," he said. "It's set to occur in ten days." 

     "So soon?" 

     "Harry is going through exactly what he would go through if he was born a she." 

     Francis grimaced. "Oh dear." 

     Harry's frown deepened. "What's that supposed to mean? What are monthly moments?" she demanded. Francis cringed and looked at Severus for help. Once again reminded of her uncle, Harry turned to him. "Neville Longbottom is your godson?" she asked. 

     Severus choked. "Where did you--" 

     "Dad told me." 

     Severus cleared his throat and thought a moment. "Oh, he did, did he?" He crossed his arms before himself and tapped his fingers against his bicep. "When did this happen?" 

     "Just now," Harry said matter-of-factly. "You were there." 

     "I was not." 

     Harry sighed and wondered why Severus had to be so stubborn. "You were chasing Dad when he said that Neville Longbottom is your godson." Again Severus choked. "How come you never told anyone about this before?" 

     Draco shrugged. "I don't blame him," he said. "I'd be ashamed too." Harry2, without looking at Draco, punched him in the shoulder and sent him skidding across the floor into Francis. Upon impact, they both fell over in a tangle of flailing body limbs. 

     "What did I do?" Francis wondered as Draco got off him. 

     "I," said Severus clearly, "never said I was ashamed of Neville Longbottom." He scowled at Harry. 

     "Then why did you ask, in your letter, why Neville couldn't be more like Frank?" 

     "_I never said I ashamed of Neville!_" Francis and the Bloody Baron, who stood on the other side of Severus, both looked at him, and then edged (or crawled, in Francis' case), away. Severus sighed and looked tired. "I'm only disappointed," he said finally as he tiredly massaged the bridge of his nose with one hand. "If there is anything I wish about Neville, it's that he could have winded up in Hufflepuff. Being in Gryffindor automatically sets him up for the same treatment I give other Gryffindors. Well, perhaps I was a little harsher because of who his parents are, but he has the potential to be like his parents." 

     The Bloody Baron growled and gritted his teeth. His hand spasmed and moved to his sword handle. "Speaking of Hufflepuff . . ." He faded away. 

     "I am not ashamed of Neville," Severus said firmly. He glared at everyone, daring them to say anything more. 

     Harry looked down at her chest. She pulled at her robes. "They're too tight," she said finally. She pulled at the robes near her waist. "They're too tight all over!" 

     Riddle dropped a hand on her shoulder. "There are things in this house that belonged to women." His eyes flickered over to Francis. "Many of the things belonged to women who were born more than three generations ago and so are dreadfully out of style and lacking in certain condiments. But one of my granddaughters was about your size and I believe I know where some things are." He looked at Draco and Harry2. "Harry may feel more comfortable with you two. Either of you know how a bra works?" 

     Harry2 shook his head while Draco leered. 

     Riddle rolled his eyes. "Hmm. I see. Well, Harry, lucky for you, Pinky knows exactly how use them." He turned from Harry and clapped his hands. "Pinky!" Pinky, wearing her precarious wig of corky blonde curls and atrocious pink lacy dress, appeared before Riddle with only a slight poof of smoke. 

     "Yes, Master?" she inquired politely as she gave him a clumsy courtesy. 

     "Would you take Harry up to the room where Sophie used to stay and help her dress?" 

     Pinky nodded her head and nearly knocked her wig off. "Yes, Master." She waved her hand at Harry. "Come with Pinky," she commanded. Harry, with a single nervous glance at the others, followed after.   
  
  
  


**Author's notes:**  
  
** Ariana Deralte: ** Expect a letter from me one of these days. And as for there being another group of people running around doing something similar to what Harry and the others are doing . . . Well, you are right in the respect of complicating matters far too much. The thing is, Cousin Quigley respectfully "haunts" one single reality, because he's the only one who decided to stick up for the Universe. Remember; Portrait-Francis had no idea who Cousin Quigley is.   
  
**Smurf:** Honey, the reason why the American society is going down the drain is because the majority are like sheep, willing to follow each other off a cliff merely because someone else does it, while half the minority is loud-mouthed and bitchy as they try to shove their opinions down other people's throats, and the other half of the minority is discreet but pointed. Get _used_ to conveying criticism, in pointing out flaws. Doing so in a tactful manner helps, but it is said that if you can't say anything good, don't say anything at all. There are those who believe that criticism will stint growth, they're the ones who think that only positive encouragement works. You need the bad to recognize where you need to be good. My vocabulary goes above and beyond that of most people my age, and I find it very frustrating. They don't try to _push_ themselves to communicate clearly. 


	21. Chapter 21

     Harry, by the time she and Pinky had reached their destination, was quite proud of herself. She had only tripped and lost her balance four times. "This place," she said firmly to Pinky as they turned another hallway, "is certainly not a cottage. It's a manor!" 

     Pinky gave Harry an odd look. "But, Missy," she said, "Dinsmore is a cottage. There is magical space inside that makes it only appear larger." Harry opened her mouth to inquire after the slightly twisted logic, but decided against it. The room they reached and entered was decorated in soft shades of peach, with trimmings of amber. While Harry had never thought that peach was an attractive color, the amber trimming allowed for enough contrast to please rather than clash. The old four-poster bed with a surrounding peach curtain stood in the middle of the room. At the foot of the bed was a locked toy chest. Off to the side of the room was a vanity set. On the other side of the room was a dresser. It was to this dresser that Pinky headed for. 

     It had four drawers, and Pinky had to pull the bottom one out to stand on in order to open the top drawer. Pinky pulled white garments out of the drawer. She turned and looked at Harry. Her eyes were wary beneath her wig. "Isn't you going to undress?" she asked. 

     "Oh." Harry's hands flew to her neckline. "Of course." She undid the buttons on her robes as Pinky grabbed the white garments and carried them over to the vanity set. She placed them on the little stool. 

     "What would Missy like to wear?" Pinky asked respectfully as she straightened up. 

     "Er, something practical," Harry said. Her hands froze as she reached the buttons that down her chest directly between her breasts. She stared in something akin to dawning horror. I am a girl. Her robes, normally slightly loose on her frame, were stretched taut across her chest, pulling at the buttons. Harry opened one hand and cupped a breast. She flinched away as soon as the palm of her hand brushed over the surface. A blush lit up her face. "I'm going to have to do this," she said firmly. "I am now a girl, and I'm different." She dropped her hand. "I still feel like a guy though." 

     Pinky gave Harry another odd look. She walked over to the closet door that was hidden behind the bed. Harry leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. She watched with morbid fascination as her chest rose and fell with each breath she took. "Oh sod this," she decided finally. "It's _my_ body!" With a fierce gritting of the teeth, she hurriedly undid the buttons down her chest and abdomen. Once her waist was loosened, she dropped and stepped out of the outer robes. She hooked her hands beneath the material of her shirt and began to hike it up when she froze. It took Harry a moment to realize she had nipples. 

     "I think I better sit down." Harry dragged herself over to the bed. She pulled the curtain back and laid down on the mattress. "I don't think I feel well." She listened to Pinky sort through the clothes in the closet before she sat up. "I have to do this," she said. "If I don't, Uncle Severus will probably do it for me." She shuddered at the idea of being stripped and dressed by Severus Snape. 

     With that idea firmly planted in her mind, Harry stood up and pulled her shirt off. She looked at her bare breasts for a long moment, and then timidly poked one. She felt the gentle prod, but there was no fluttering in her stomach or wince of pain. 

     Harry decided that her chest, aside from being bigger and bouncier, was no different from what it used to be. _They're bigger, and extend forward, but other than that, there's no difference. _ She had nipples when she had still been a he. This is what a woman's supposed to have, this curve. Harry pushed her trousers to her ankles, and then grabbed the waistband of her shorts. 

     They were loose. 

     Pinky jumped on to the bed next to Harry. "Here we's go," she said cheerfully as she held out a white pair of panties with bright yellow ribbon ties on the sides, and a white bra with an identical ribbon tie where cleavage met. 

     "Oh." Harry accepted the bra. She stared reluctantly at the panties. "I think I needs to sit down again," she said as the strength in her legs gave out. This, she knew, would be the hard part.   
  
  
  


     Draco, Harry2, and Severus cleaned up the dinner dishes while Riddle wandered off somewhere and Francis decided to wait for Harry outside the bedroom she had entered with Pinky. There was a slight argument over who got to do what, but Severus solved the problem by deciding he would wash the dishes, Draco would do the drying, and Harry2 would put them away. 

     Dependant upon he who was up to his elbows in soapsuds for work, Draco and Harry had rest periods in between stacks of dishes. It allowed them to examine their surroundings. The kitchen they stood in was square-shaped. One wall was covered with various cupboards filled with dishes, pots, pans, and various dry cooking ingredients, such as spices, flours, sugars, grains, and legumes. Against the opposite wall was a long counter. At one side of the counter was a cast-iron cooking stove, and on the other side was three kitchen sinks. In between were cutting boards, sets of cutting knives, and carefully stacked copper cooking pots. The wall to their left had the one exit. All of the visible space of the wall was covered with various papers on which cooking recipes were written upon. When Harry2 had asked after the recipes, Severus' face scrunched up. 

     "It's the collection of family recipes," he said. He pointed at one. The writing was smooth and small. "This is Pandora's writing. Generations of family recipes cover this wall. I remember," he had pursed his lips thoughtfully, "I remember Black--in my reality--betting how many recipes on the wall. James won the bet, if only because he and I had gotten into an argument earlier that week about how many different recipes were there and we both counted." 

     The fourth and final wall was bare as the stone floor they stood upon. "It's to make room for future generations' recipes," Severus said in explanation. 

     "I feel nervous," Draco said to no one in particularly as he paused in drying a set of plates. 

     Severus waved his sponge at Draco. "Get back to work and you'll be too busy to be nervous." 

     Draco looked at his stack of dishes. "Any reason why we get to clean up supper?" he asked with a frown. It sounded more like, _any reason why_ I_ get to clean up supper?_

     Severus scrubbed a pan with an energy that could only be described as vicious, but said nothing. Harry2, carrying a stack of dried dishes over to the cupboard they belonged in, turned around and looked at Draco over his stack. "We don't trust you," he said. "Riddle thinks you're a lecher who would spy on Harry while she's dressing. Francis just wants to keep you busy. Oh, and Pinky's helping Harry, so she isn't going to clean up." 

     Draco waved his towel at Harry2. "Why do I need to ogle Harry while he--she's dressing when you've got a lovely arse I get a good view of every time you stand on that stool to put the dishes away." 

     Harry2's face turned a deep red as he looked from the stool to Draco. "Professor." He set the dishes on the counter next to the cupboard with a heavy clunk. "I want to trade places." He held a fisted hand up. "For the sake of Draco retaining all his teeth." 

     "If both of you don't stop fighting," Severus said darkly as he looked up from his pan, "I'll make both of you sorry." 

     Harry2 and Draco studied Severus for a long moment, uncertainty clear in their eyes. They looked at each other. "What can he do?" Draco asked finally. "He's just a ghost." 

     Harry2 slowly backed away from Draco. "Yeah? Have you ever had to fight poltergeists before? I know someone who makes a living off of it, and I try to avoid her because you never know if she's on assignment or not." 

     Draco turned about to grab something to dry and found Severus glaring at him. 

     "You're pushing it," Severus said. He dropped his sponge and stepped away from the pan. "Finish this while I go looking for Francis." He floated through the wall and was gone. 

     Draco tossed his towel to the side and rolled up his sleeves. He dipped his hands into the water, only to yank them out immediately afterwards. "That's cold!" he exclaimed. 

     Harry2 walked over to the sink where the dishwater was. He dipped one hand into it. The water around his hand began to steam and boil. "No, it's not," he said. He withdrew his hand and flicked the water at Draco. 

     "Show off," Draco grumbled with a hint of tenderness as he grabbed the sponge and plunged his hands into the sink water. "AIIEE!" He yanked his hands out again. "That's hot!"   
  
  
  


     Severus found Francis seated on the floor with his back against the wall. To his left was the door of the room Harry was in. Without saying a word, Severus sat down beside Francis. Francis had his hands clasped between his legs and looked as if he were pondering the mysteries of life. "I was wondering," he said after a long while, "if we ever get Tom Riddle to come with us and we do get my Pandora back, what's going to happen." 

     "Because you're both married to Pandora?" Severus asked. 

     "Well, there was that too, although I was mostly concerned for the sake of everyone who had to suffer immensely at Voldemort's hands, and how it's going to be with him joining us." Francis growled under his breath, and suddenly and almost violently raked his fingers through his hair. He pulled his goggles off and rubbed his sleeve over the glass. "Tom Riddle doesn't feel safe," he said fiercely. 

     "No one with his amount of power feels safe," Severus said pointedly. "Except Dumbledore. 

     "But," said Francis, "that was always because he never meant anyone harm, and he actually cares if he did hurt someone. When people are in his presence, they feel this concern, they feel that Dumbledore can be trusted. Tom Riddle? He doesn't care. If you get in his way and the easiest way to get around you is to get rid of you--let alone make it quick and painless, which isn't often the case--he'll probably do it. He's ruthless. In every reality, he always has been and likely or not, he probably always will be. The difference between Tom Riddle and Voldemort is Riddle doesn't go to such extremes. I mean, he is ruthless in what he needs to do, but he isn't trying to, well, take over the world. He's not trying to prove something like Voldemort does, so he isn't doing such awful things." 

     "He's a Slytherin," Severus said as if that single sentence explained the entire situation. "In that aspect, Tom Riddle is the same. We are efficient in what we do. But we have to bring him along, one way or another. As powerful as he is, I don't think Riddle can destroy Voldemort across so many different realities." 

     Francis rubbed his neck. "I know." He sounded mournful as he dropped his hand. "And knowing all of this brings up Pandora. I don't think Tom Riddle will see her any less than the woman he married, even if she's my wife. But I won't give her up. That brings this entire matter to a draw." Subconsciously, Francis' hand pressed against his torso, where a single scar ran from one side to the next. "I don't know what to do. I know we have to bring him, but . . ." His voice trailed off. He shrugged sheepishly. "But I just don't feel comfortable with him." 

     "Maybe it's because of what he did." Severus looked pointedly at where Francis had his hand pressed. Francis nodded his head in agreement. 

     "When I was a little boy and living with family in Australia, I had a little cow pony for myself. One day, my uncle Kenny decided that I was big enough to ride what he called a real horse, and I thought was a monster at the time. The horse smelled my fear. When I was on his back and reaching for the reigns, he gave a little kick and unseated me. It was a long while before I could actually agree to riding another horse, rather than my little pony." Francis smiled as he leaned back against the wall and relaxed. "It takes a while for us to recover our trust in something that has hurt us," he said. 

     Severus nodded glumly. "If the trust is ever recovered," he muttered beneath his breath.   
  
  
  


     Harry2 sensed Riddle long before Draco did. Voldemort always gave Harry2 the impression of a diseased corpse. Tom Riddle, although not a diseased corpse, still felt as if something dark and unnatural abode within. Harry2 felt the same unnatural darkness every time Pandora's Box was opened. 

     Harry2 was not a stranger to the darkness. The Beast's unnatural darkness was an overwhelming depth. In Him, the unnatural darkness was so deep and so concentrated it drove mortals insane. It was the well of all unnatural darkness that existed in every living creature. It was the Nature of the Beast. 

     The Beast said as much to Harry2 after he had earned the Ember Death, the black dragon tattoo. The Beast went to explain the natural darkness was the means and motives to destroy. Harry2 recognized it as being such. He knew it was the means and motives to destroy, and he felt it within every member of his family but his mother and grandfather. 

     Marcia, for all the nuisance that she was, had little motive to destroy. She had little motive to do anything she disliked that required effort, and fighting was the one thing she avoided more often than responsibility. Harry2's grandfather, Turk, was a rune demon as Harry2 was. However, unlike Harry2, his personality tied in with his element, and it is difficult to have any motivation to destroy anything when one's personality is based completely upon sunshine and earth. Harry2 never knew his grandfather to be anything less than patient and cheerful. 

     But for all of his demon kin, only the Beast's unnatural darkness exceeded Voldemort's. 

     Gradually, as Harry2 grew older, he learned to differentiate the differences of levels of unnatural darkness. Some people had greater levels of unnatural darkness than others. It was not until Harry2 met with a dementor in his third year at Hogwarts did he realize the difference of levels depended completely upon the individual's power. The greater the power a person had, the greater the means to carry out the motivation of destruction. The greater the power, the greater the level of unnatural darkness. 

     There was, however, only one flaw to this knowledge. In Harry2's experience, levels of unnatural darkness remained fairly consistent. As he understood it, a person was stable in their boundaries of destruction. Merely because Tom Riddle was not on Voldemort's level of violence did not mean that he was incapable of doing less or he dared not to do what Voldemort did. People had different ways of achieving different ends. The greater the level of unnatural darkness, the more ruthless and horrific their means. The level of motivation and inclination of ruthlessness was not dependant upon the level of power in which to obtain the means. Dumbledore, who was the most powerful human that Harry2 knew, had much less unnatural darkness than even McGonagall. 

     The unnatural darkness was not so much as an inclination for ruthlessness, but rather a tolerance factor for the more chaotic, more brutal actions. While there may be people whose power equal or surpassed Voldemort's, their level of unnatural darkness was smaller because they believed some means did not justify the end. There were some things some people would never permit themselves to do, such as killing another human being, or striking a helpless person. For all Harry2 knew, there were people out there even more powerful than Dumbledore or Voldemort, but their level of unnatural darkness--their limit or tolerance for desperate means--was miniscule. 

     It did not matter to Harry2 if this Tom Riddle was not Voldemort, if this Tom Riddle was, for all intents and purposes, "good". His means for an end were no less limited than Voldemort's. Tom Riddle's level of unnatural darkness, while smaller than Voldemort's, was too large for Harry2's comfort. As far as Harry2 was concerned, Tom Riddle warranted watching. 

     When the man entered the kitchen, Harry2 knew it. He looked up from where he was stacking the dishes and silently turned to study Riddle as he silently stood in the open door. The man's eyes glanced over him, seemingly disinterested, before they settled upon Draco. 

     Draco was busy concentrating piling the soap suds on top of one another. "Look!" he said suddenly without glancing over at Harry2. He pointed at his pile of soap suds with a silly grin. "It's the Astronomy Tower!" He squashed them with the palm of his hand. "Ha! And that's the pens where Hagrid always kept his animals!" With a flourish of his hands, Draco began to remodel the pile of soap suds. Harry2 glanced back over to Riddle. 

     One eyebrow arched elegantly upward. Riddle's eyes shifted from Draco to Harry2. He shrugged, and then stepped silently over to Draco's side. He was four steps from Draco when the blonde man said, "And this is what happens to anyone who sneaks up on me." He decimated his pile of soap suds with a single swipe of his hand that caused them to fly across the counter. He turned around to face Riddle. 

     "Although," Draco said conversationally as he leaned backwards against the sink and crossed his ankles, "I'm probably not strong enough to do something like that to someone such as yourself." Draco's eyes were narrowed and his lips were pressed together into a single pale line. His side profile struck Harry2 as vicious. His scar was clear from this view, and was a menacing gash that marred his face and heightened the ominous air that clung to him. 

     Riddle said nothing as he watched Draco with a hint of amusement in his all-knowing eyes. He crossed his arms before himself and studied Draco with a sense of detachment. Draco watched him in a suspicious, dangerous manner. Harry2 sat down on his stool and wondered if he would have to be the one to make the next move. 

     Both Riddle and Draco stood so still, they appeared to be statues. Knowing he could potentially wait forever for either Riddle or Draco to be the first to break the silence, Harry2 stood up. "This is a fascinating conversation," he said. No one looked in his direction. Harry2 glanced from person to person, and then shrugged. "Neither of you are going to get anywhere really fast," he told them knowingly. 

     "Good point," said Riddle. He turned from Draco to face Harry2. "How bad is your reality?" 

     "How bad?" Harry2 scratched his head. "What do you mean?" 

     "Exactly what I said. How bad is your reality?" 

     Harry2 smiled. "Well, that depends which reality. Most of my youth was spent at the Winter's Ambit, which my grandmother rules, and that's in an entirely different realm, let alone reality. Since that was with my family, I guess one could call it bad, or at least bad." Harry held up both his hands, the fingers splayed wide. "My grandmother adopted two children--Mom and Uncle Nandin--and has ten natural children. Aunt Adora and Aunt Heather are my great-great aunts, since they're grandmother's aunts. You'd think they'd have grown up by now, but they haven't. And they're a bad influence on my ten aunts and uncles. 

     "And then there's Greer where the Beast dwells in physical form. I've been there multiple times because it's where I got this," Harry2 pointed at his tattoo, "and Mom believes in my knowing all the family. Half of us live in Greer, because it's where the demons live, and that's where my grandfather and six of my aunts and uncles live. It's where the Beast dwells, and since family is the guardians, they _have_ to be there. Of course, I didn't always like visiting them. And then the final reality where I live is, of course, Earth. Mostly at Hogwarts." 

     He crossed his arms before his chest. "Greer is violent, which is to be expected, since it's the home for demons. Winter's Ambit is cold. Hogwarts . . . Well, my reality hasn't been that bad, comparatively speaking. Unless you mean what has Voldemort done to it. Thus far, it's not as bad as Greer, but if you remove the demons and how it's their nature to be violence, well . . . It's bad. Not like Draco's, though." 

     Riddle's eyes flickered. He turned to Draco. "What is your reality like?" he asked softly. 

     Draco watched Riddle with narrowed eyes. "Before or after you transfigured Nagini?" 

     Riddle's eyebrow slowly arched up. "How was it in comparison between before and after the transfiguration?" 

     Draco pushed away from the sink. His arms hung loosely at his side, but Harry2 noticed that his left hand twitched to where his sword handle, currently missing, usually hung slung across his back. "Before you transfigured Nagini, it was a nightmare. You being alive at the time, of course." Again, Riddle's eyebrow arched up, but he remained silent as he watched Draco. "You killed Muggles right and left, doing such heinous crimes that I couldn't describe them if I felt like it. Well, maybe if I felt like it, but I certainly don't, right now. You tortured any wizards or witches that refused to join your side, and if that didn't work, fed them to nasty creatures you summoned from some hell. The Nasties didn't kill the witches and wizards immediately, but apparently it served for some bloody good fun. They would tear the flesh from the body with snapping mouths filled with razor sharp teeth. People were torn apart unti lthe Nasties had their fill, and left the person. Sometimes the people lived through the process, their flesh stripped from their bones. _You_ left them to linger in the dust." Draco stubbornly gritted his teeth. "My mother died like that. 

     "We fought you, and soon, the only safe place in the European world was Hogwarts. As powerful as you were, or are, or whatever, you couldn't tear the protective barriers down and get at the people inside. At least, not all at once and by yourself." Draco paused a moment. Riddle waited for him to continue, standing as still as stone. Harry2 watched them avidly. 

     "You attacked," Draco said. A far-away look flashed momentarily across his face. "You hit Hogwarts with everything you had. Hexes, charms, curses. It tore the place apart, devastating what had once been a beautiful castle. It was a heritage ruined, destroyed beyond any hope for repair. After more than a week, Harry--my Harry, still the Boy Who Lived and the only known person who could ever face you in a fight--went out to meet you." Draco straightened his shoulders and glared at Riddle. "He killed you," he said with a hint of pride in his voice. "But it was what killed him in the end. You two were connected so if one lived, the other lives, and if one died, so died the other. Before you died though, you transfigured Nagini into a woman. She continued your devastation of the world." 

     Draco turned around. He gripped the edge of the sink and stared at the soap suds for a moment. He picked up his sponge and dropped it into the water. "Maybe she wasn't as bad as you," he said softly as he splashed about in the water. He grabbed a handful of silverware and rubbed them with his sponge. He moved with quiet deliberation, each one marked as precariously perched on the border between control and loss thereof. "I don't know. The world had already gone into such ruins before then, so there wasn't that much left to devastate. 

     "You turned nuclear warheads on Muggles armies when they decided to fight against the mysterious terror ripping apart Great Britain. The radiation mutated and twisted people in ways that magic was incapable of doing. Nagini selected those people as her servants. She brought them into an army. They were little more than animals, and worse than the Nasties that Voldemort fed his enemies to. 

     "You left the world half-ruined. After the battle at Hogwarts, there weren't many people left to fight Nagini. Unlike you, who wanted to take over the world and rebuild it as an ideal kingdom, she just wanted to destroy it. I fought the best I could, but the war was lost before the battle could be decided." Draco looked up from the water. He stared at the wall, but did not seem to see it. His eyes were glazed over and looked wistful. "I could remember, some nights before Francis and the others Jumped into my reality, watching the skies and wondering about how different things could be if Voldemort had been strangled in the crib." 

     Harry2 choked at Draco's words. He glanced quickly over to Riddle to see what his reaction was, but Riddle's face was schooled into cool interest. 

     "As I watched the skies, bright sparks of light began to disappear, as if blotted out of existence, disappearing forever. And the world grew colder as I realized we weren't the only planet that was dying." Draco looked over his shoulder at Riddle. "Balance is such a delicate thing. I never stopped and thought about it before. But I know that it only takes a little bit for balance to change. If one world falls in the Universe, does it cause other worlds to fall as well? If one reality dies, do all the other realities follow suit? If the balance is upset, doesn't it send little shockwaves everywhere, because everything depends on balance for order, and without the balance, the change is absolute?" 

     He shrugged as he went back to washing dishes. "I don't like you," he said, "but I don't want any other person to ever have to live through what I went through. I don't want them to see the corruption and desolation as I have. I don't want them to see their lover fall. I don't want them to see their mother ripped apart and then left to die in the hot sun." His dangerous air fell away, until all it left behind was a little boy trying to cope with the largem, cruel world. He looked over at Harry2 imploringly. "It's . . . it's beyond anything." 

     Harry2 could not stop the shiver that ran up his spine, or the first grudging sparks of respect for his childhood enemy. 


	22. Chapter 22

     It was a quiet, thoughtful Harry who exited her room. Francis and Severus jumped to their feet and looked at her expectedly. Harry nervously tucked her hands behind her back and waited for them to say something. Her bra chafed her skin and her chest felt constricted in a tight band. On one hand, Harry supposed that was the purpose of the bra. It was a torture device, created by some man in revenge for being spurned, or something. Her underwear was snug about her waist and thighs, and very roomy in an area she was not accustomed to them being roomy. 

     "I don't like this," she said finally as Francis and Severus studied the fuchsia-colored robes she wore. The robes, unlike her underwear, were comfortable. There was room around her chest and her waist. Harry found moving in them easier to do, especially since she still had a little problem with her balance. Her center of balance was her waist now and, she supposed, her much-rounder butt, which was to counter her new breasts. 

     "I don't like being a girl," Harry said when Francis and Severus remained quiet. 

     "Well, you know," Francis began kindly, "when you're dressed in that color, it reminds me rather of Anastasia and Edwina." He smiled helpfully at Harry. 

     "Anastasia and Edwina," said Severus with a frown, "pulled their shoulders back." 

     Harry pouted. "Anastasia and Edwina," she said pointedly, "also had smaller breasts than me." 

     Francis shook his head. "No, Severus is right. You should pull your shoulders back. It would ease the strain on your lower back." 

     Harry grumbled under her breath for a moment before she threw her shoulders back and fell over backwards in the process. She landed on something knobby and small. 

     "AHHHH!" Pinky wailed as Harry quickly jumped to her feet and nearly fell over on Francis. He reached out and steadied her before she did. 

     "I'm sorry!" Harry cried. Pinky, crumpled on the floor with her wig crooked and her dress splayed out, continued to wail. She cradled her left arm close. Harry squatted down and tried to straighten the wig. Pinky weakly pushed her away. 

     "Oh dear," said Riddle behind them. They looked over their shoulders as he pushed his way past them and bent over Pinky. "It's quite all right," he said with a slight bit of impatience. He gently scooped her up in his hands and cradled her close. "Would you like me to take care of the pain?" he asked. 

     Pinky stopped wailing. She looked at him with shiny eyes as tears dribbled down her face. "Pinky hurts," she said moarnfully. She held out one bruised hand. Riddle carefully took it in his own. 

     "I shall give you a tonic to make it feel better," Riddle said as he turned around. He gave the others a pointed look, and then nodded his head in the direction of the hallway. He walked down its length, the others following suit. "You have been very helpful this evening; I am very proud of you." He spoke to Pinky as if she was a child who desperately tried to please him. "You deserve the tonic--" 

     "And cheesecake," Pinky put in hurriedly. 

     "--and cheesecake," Riddle said in the manner of someone who rolled their eyes as they patiently agreed to absurd demands, "which you may have a piece of--" 

     "With cherries," 

     "And what is cheesecake without a cherry topping?" Riddle asked coolly. Pinky said nothing as she continued to gaze up at him with big eyes. They looked suspiciously full of worshipful love. "So I shall tuck you in bed with your cheesecake and tonic." 

     "With a picture book?" Pinky asked hopefully as she clutched at his robes sleeve. 

     "With a picture book," Riddle agreed. He stopped at a crossways between two hallways. He turned to Francis, Severus, and Harry. "I will meet you in the kitchens," he said. Francis nodded his head, and they parted. Riddle walked down one hall with Pinky tucked closely to his chest, and the others walked down the other one. 

     "Draco was right," said Harry as she looked over her shoulder. "That _is _one over-indulged house elf." 

     Francis, trudging in front of them, shrugged his shoulders. "Pandora saw house elves as little children. She didn't think they were supposed to be treated as slaves, and disapproved of their use as servants. I can remember her arguing with her cousin, Tacitus Malfoy, more than once about his own house elves. So, if someone gave her a house elf when it was just was a baby, I can see how she would indulge it." 

     "But why would Riddle treat Pinky like that even after Pandora died?" 

     "For many reasons, Harry, and most of which I could not imagine since they involve Riddle. The most logical one I can think of is Riddle treats Pinky the way he does because it's how Pandora treated Pinky. Why change something that works? It's how Pandora probably would have wanted it." 

     "Pandora," said Severus knowingly, "had a bad habit of indulging children." 

     Francis looked over his shoulder at Severus. He smiled brightly. "Do you speak from experience?" 

     "Of course." Severus sniffed. "She indulged me as she did any of the other neighborhood children. There were a few she never stopped indulging even after they grew up." He gave Harry a pointed look. Harry hurriedly looked away. 

     Francis did not notice the look. "What do you suppose Draco and the other Harry are doing right now?" He stopped suddenly. Harry tried to stop and not walk into him, but she lost her balance and nearly fell over. It was only Severus' quick grab that saved her from falling on her bottom. 

     "You're cold!" Harry wrapped her arms around herself and glared at Severus, who glared back. 

     Francis turned around to face them. "While I do, of course, realize that this may be a tad late to think of, but shouldn't we find some way to differentiate between you and the other Harry? It feels queer, calling him the other Harry." 

     "I call him Harry2," said Harry. 

     "Well, he too is Harry, yes." 

     Severus rolled his eyes. "One Harry has testosterone and a tattoo, the other Harry is female." He pointed one finger at Harry's chest. "What more could one need to differentiate between them?" 

     Harry covered her chest with her arms and turned her upper body away as she glowered at Severus. "Oi!" 

     "Oh, I suppose you're right," Francis said. "Well, let's go see what they're doing!" He spun about on his heels and skipped off down the hallway. Severus and Harry hurried to catch up with him.   
  
  
  


     Harry2 and Draco were just finishing their cleaning job when the others entered the kitchen. Draco looked up from where he was mopping up excess water around the sink. He put his hands on his hips and frowned. "What took you three so long in joining us?" He shook his towel at them. "Harry and I are nearly finished. I could swear you did this all on purpose. Ah well." He took two steps forward and raked his eyes over Harry's fuchsia-clad figure. "That isn't a good color on you," he said gently. 

     Harry frowned. "What difference does it make?" she asked. "The clothes are clean and comfortable. They work well enough for me." 

     "That may be true, but I don't think that color is a good one on you," Draco said. "They don't bring out the color in your eyes, or the highlights in your hair, or the--" 

     "I like the color," Harry2 said from across the kitchen. The kitchen broom he held was poised in mid-sweep. 

     Draco cast him a cool, yet patient, look over his shoulder. "This comes from someone whom I've noticed is wearing different-colored socks." 

     Harry2 looked down at his feet. Both socks were white, but there were two rings across the top. On one sock, the rings were red. On the other sock, the rings were blue. "Well, you'd wear different-colored socks too if your mom hadn't done the laundry in the four months you were away at Hogwarts." 

     "My mom," said Draco proudly, "had house elves to do the laundry, among many other household chores." He glanced quickly over the kitchen. "Which is what Pinky should be doing now instead of myself." He tucked his towel beneath one arm and held his hands up for inspection. "They're wrinkled and soggy," he said disapprovingly. 

     "Oh," said Harry2 with a falsetto twitter in his voice and a humorous glint in his eyes, "but they're _so _sexy!" 

     "Ha!" Draco did not look up from his inspection. "I know sarcasm when I hear it, Potter." 

     "Pinky," said Harry from where she stood in the doorway with Francis in front of her and Severus sticking half-way through the wall, "is being tucked into bed with cheesecake and a picture book." 

     "The cheesecake" Francis added quickly, "has cherries on top." 

     Draco looked at Francis and Harry from beneath his eyelashes. He dropped his hands and straightened his shoulders. "Cheesecake?" 

     "With cherries," Harry said helpfully. 

     Draco shook his head as he turned back to the sink and gripped the porcelain edge. "That house elf gets better treatment than most humans I know." 

     "Pinky," said Riddle behind Francis and Harry in the hallway before the kitchen, "deserves the better treatment than most humans I know." Harry and Francis moved away from the entrance, allowing Riddle to step across the threshold. "I happen to like Pinky more than I do 98% of the human population I have had the," he curled his lip back in a somewhat graceful sneer, "misfortune of meeting." 

     Tom Riddle was a dark, foreboding figure as he strode around the kitchen. He looked around, as if inspecting the newly-cleaned surroundings. He paused a moment at Draco's side and studied the kitchen sink. Draco growled beneath his breath. "If you tell me I missed a spot, I'll scream." 

     "I was going to say," Riddle said conversationally, "that you make a very good housemaid. You may want to consider a career in it." 

     Draco's face turned red as Riddle turned away from him to Harry2. Riddle smiled brightly at Harry as he crossed his arms before himself. Harry2 shrugged. "Mom thinks I make a good housemaid too. However, I don't intend to consider a career in it. I think I'd make a better butler." 

     Riddle's eyebrow went up. "Are you considering a career as a butler?" he asked. 

     Harry grinned and shook his head. "No, not really." 

     "What do you wish to consider?" 

     "Something that involves demolition." Harry2 propped the broom against his shoulder and crossed his arms around it. "I'm very good at destroying things, especially with my family's example." 

     As if reminded of Harry2's two aunts, Riddle's other eyebrow went up to join the other. He turned around and looked at Francis. "To change the topic," he said seriously as he tucked his hands into his robes sleeves, "can you show me anything of the past?" 

     Francis blinked owlishly. "Pardon?" 

     Riddle sighed. He gestured with one hand. "I have heard testimonies," his eyes flickered to Draco and lingered for a moment before flickering back to Francis, "of what a monster I have become in other realities, and what it may bode for this reality. I want more than just a description from someone who is biased and emotionally involved with the situation." Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously as his hand twitched closer to where his sword would be hanging. "I want to measure and assess the damage on my own level of discretion." His eyes flickered over Francis, Severus, and finally lingered on Harry. 

     Harry squirmed uncomfortably beneath Riddle's all-knowing gaze. She felt agitated that he would stare at her so, but supposed it could not be helped, since she was the one who initiated everything with the help of Pandora and the Mirror of Rebounds. "I think," said Riddle softly, without turning his eyes away from Harry, "it will be the deciding factor in whether I shall help you or not." The cool passiveness in his eyes barely masked a hot curiosity that seemed to burn Harry. 

     Francis stared at Riddle wordlessly for a moment, before he finally nodded firmly. "All right then," he said. He looked around at the others and helplessly waved his hands for a moment. "All right," he said again, "it's time for Cousin Quigley to make an appearance." 

     Severus growled audibly as Francis turned around and marched out of the kitchen. The others trailed behind him, with Severus following after Francis, Riddle following after Severus, Harry following after Riddle because she felt uncomfortable with the man at his back, and Draco and Harry2 bringing up the rear. 

     Francis led them as a mother duck led her ducklings. It struck Harry as being an almost comical scene, with the way Francis marched forward, Severus floated along, and Riddle trailed behind with a graceful dignity. A soft, feminine voice sang momentarily through Harry's mind._ But the one little duck with the feathers on his back, // he led the others with a quack! quack! quack! _Harry wasn't sure where the song came from, but the voice was comfortably familiar. 

     _ Great, _Harry thought with a slight roll of her eyes, _now I'm hearing voices that I don't mind. _That might be a bad thing. 

     Harry tried to keep her mind comfortable blank as they made their way through Dinsmore's lower level to the mid-level that the parlor with the Mirror of Rebounds and Pandora's Box was located on. They entered the room and milled beside the door, reluctant to go near the two magical artifacts. Harry felt an ominous sense of boding as she stared at them. 

     "Any volunteers?" Francis asked nervously as he looked around at his companions. Draco and Harry2 exchanged glances before they hurriedly shook their heads no. Severus crossed his arms before himself. 

     "You know quite well what happens when I handle the Mirror of Rebounds, nor am I on good terms with my father as this moment." He spat the word father as if saying it left a foul taste in his mouth. Harry felt a sense of desolation at the thought. Up until this moment, she had not realized how sad it must be to finally have a father a person wanted the least, knowing full-well what misery and pain that person had caused. Without realizing it, Harry reached out to comfortingly pat Severus on the arm. Her hand passed through him, and he glanced at her, startled. 

     Harry withdrew her hand quickly and looked away. Francis threw his arms up in the air. "Fine," he said in a resigned voice. He trudged over to the Mirror of Rebounds and studied it for a moment. He poked the glass with one finger. "Cousin Quigley?" he inquired. Silence was his only answer. He poked the glass again. The mirror swung slightly on its hinges. "We know you are in there, and it's high time you come out. At least to help us. We need Tom Riddle to join us, and you're supposed to show him the past so he will." 

     Something flashed across the mirror's surface momentarily. Francis snatched his hand back and jumped back a few steps. He watched the Mirror of Rebounds with no small amount of trepidation. The Mirror of Rebounds began to sway back and forth. 

     _ Hmm? _Cousin Quigley's voice hung freely in the air. With that sound, the Mirror of Rebounds zipped immediately into a blurred spin. White light filled its center and expanded. Cousin Quigley popped into view within the white light. "You want me to show you why Tom Riddle should join?" In the spinning Mirror of Rebounds, Cousin Quigley's eyes looked bloodshot from too much drink, or perhaps too much crying. He fiercely wiped his eyes and then listlessly dropped his hands. He leaned against the frame and looked at Tom Riddle. "You loved Pandora," he said. "Do you know what you did to her?" He looked at the others. In an incredible feat of audacity, Cousin Quigley visibly gathered his strength and squared his shoulders. He looked at the others with an unwavering gaze. "Who has the courage to see that which James witnessed?" 

     Severus' head snapped up. "That which . . ." He floated forward a step. "I do." He smiled mirthlessly. "I always wondered what Voldemort did to James." The smile disappeared. "It isn't going to pretty." 

     Cousin Quigley shook his head. "It never is," he said softly, his eyes filled with an incomprehensible amount of grief. 

     Harry glanced from Severus to Cousin Quigley, and then took a step forward. Harry2 followed suit with a shrug. Draco and Francis joined them in the tight half-circle formed around the Mirror of Rebounds. After a moment's hesitation, Riddle moved forward to stand between Harry and Harry2. 

     Cousin Quigley dipped his head in a nod. "Here we go," he said. He extended his hand out of the Mirror to Riddle. Riddle squinted at it, and then grabbed it. In the flare of light, the Mirror of Rebounds pulled them into it to see that which James witnessed.   
  
  
  


     It was silent. That was what struck Harry the most as she and the others saw the single event that shaped James' life. Though words were exchanged between the two little boys (James and Jonathan, Cousin Quigley had said) and Voldemort, they were not heard. The Voldemort who appeared was a twisted, darker version of Tom Riddle, almost as if he had been torn apart and then put together by a half-blind and half-drunk surgeon with as much grace as Neville during one of Snape's pop quizzes. They were tiny compared to the scene that played out. It filled Harry's entire vision. She had difficulty focusing on the entire scene. 

     Harry shot a quick glance at Riddle, but the anger in his face was enough for her to turn her sight on someone else. Francis' eyes were wide and his face was pale. Harry jumped and screamed when Voldemort tore Jonathan's head from his body. Harry2 winced and grabbed Harry by her shoulders as she swayed uncertainly on her feet. Draco looped an arm around her waist, his expression cold and his jaw clenched stubbornly. Harry dimly supposed that he was used to blood and death. 

     Jonathon's body fell against James and slid down. Blood washed over James, his eyes wide and face pale. He looked shocked and uncertain. 

     "I first saw this when I was James' age," Cousin Quigley said softly from the corner he stood in. The entire vision froze in that single moment. He looked at Severus and Harry. "This took place in Godric's Hollow." Cousin Quigley was seated on the solid, indeterminable surface the others stood upon. He had his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He looked fragile and much like a child, curled up in a tight ball as he was. 

     Severus winced and Harry felt a wave of nausea sweep over herself. The vision resumed. Voldemort bent over James and pressed a bloody finger to James' lips. A few moments passed, and then Anne, James' mother and Harry's grandmother, entered the kitchen. Harry could not imagine the horror that Anne must have felt as seeing Jonathon's head bump against her feet. Harry was unsure of what he felt when Anne tried to attack Voldemort. A flash of pride for her quick retaliation? Sadness, for knowing that Ann would never avenge her son's death as a dozen knives struck her in the chest and torso, and ripped away side to side? 

     Again the vision froze. They looked over at Cousin Quigley, who fiercely wiped his eyes again. 

     "Why is it silent?" Francis asked. His voice was amazingly steady. Harry looked over at him. Francis slumped over, looking truly tired and old. His jaw trembled and his shoulders bent forward, burdened by the weight of infinite sadness and pain of seeing his son's wife and son slaughtered. 

     "Because hearing it makes it all the more personal," Cousin Quigley replied as his head dropped between the crook of his knees. Francis gritted his teeth. 

     "This is my son's family. How can it not--" Francis stopped speaking as his voice broke. His throat flexed a few times as he swallowed desperately and fought down tears. "How can it not be personal?" he asked in a lost voice. He swayed about unsteadily on his own feet, but there was no one to steady him as there had been for Harry. 

     Cousin Quigley did not look stir. "Hearing it hurts all the more. You hear the emotions and know how they felt. It's more haunting than wondering how it felt. When I slept but never Wandered, it was always the sound of the thump and bumps and steel against bone that haunted me. Blood dripping, steadily. Drip. Drip. Drip. Of course, that was your blood that dripped. Makes no difference though. To me, all the visions were the same horrors. 

     "The silence was the most damaging for James. Voldemort told James to not say a word, and so James never mentioned his father for almost twenty years. It's almost symbolic. It's silent, because James was." Cousin Quigley gave them a clunky shrug without lifting his head. The vision resumed. 

     Francis covered his mouth when Oliver entered the scene with Jonathon's head. As a portrait, Oliver was always docile, passive, and very unassuming. Even here was no different. There was an immense sadness on Oliver's face as he cried, but there was no fight, no anger. Unheard words were exchanged between Oliver and Voldemort. 

     "He speaks of you," Cousin Quigley said. "Do you want to know that he speaks of how your body disappeared, with only your blood running down the stairs to tell the story of what may have happened? Drip. Drip. Drip. Do you want to hear the finality of his voice?" Cousin Quigley gave a high-pitched laugh that bordered on the line of hysteria. He shook his head and his arms tightened their grasp around his knees. "I need a drink awfully badly," he moaned softly. 

     Francis said nothing as Oliver lifted his hand and showed the first spark of defiance in the depths of his turquoise-colored eyes. Voldemort's reaction was for the knives that struck Anne down to bury into his back. As the knife points protruding from Oliver's chest, the defiance became clear on his face. The knives ripped completely through his chest, spun about in the air, and sunk up to the hilt in his stomach. 

     "He had an inner strength," Cousin Quigley said admirably as Oliver sank to his knees. "Pandora would have been proud of him." Francis said nothing as he squeezed his eyes shut, too late to stop the tears. The scene froze. "Francis, if nothing else, please watch." 

     "Why?" Francis opened his eyes. "I leave my children when they have just entered their teens, only that the next time I see them they're being slaughtered--torn apart!" 

     "I can send you away, if you'd like," Cousin Quigley said as he lifted his head and looked at Francis with a hurt expression, "so you don't have to witness this." 

     Francis took a ragged breath, then shook his head. "It hurts to watch." His voice sounded fragile enough to be shattered apart by a puff of wind. 

     "I know." Cousin Quigley looked away. "It hurt every time I had to watch, and there was never an end." 

     As the scene moved again, Harry watched Francis gather shards of strength together. He tucked his chin against his collarbone and watched as tears fell down his face. They watched as Oliver spoke, softly, and then forcefully, before he flung a bloody hand wide. For the first time, Voldemort lost his careful control to anger. His bitten snarl and the twisted rage on his face were followed by the knives ripping a gash in Oliver's stomach. His intestines spilled across the floor. 

     Francis choked and covered his eyes, but Cousin Quigley did not stop the vision or ask Francis to continue watching. Harry felt her legs give out beneath her. Draco braced himself to take her weight. _That's how Francis would have died! _Harry thought in horror as she remembered seeing Francis in the Mirror of Rebounds, stumbling through the hallway with his hands wrapped around his stomach to keep his own innards from spilling out. One single knife ended Oliver's misery with a slash across his throat. 

     The vision ended then, fading into black. Cousin Quigley, the Harrys, Draco, Francis, and Riddle emitted light, as if their skin enclosed a gigantic beam of radiance. 

     Cousin Quigley looked at Riddle. "There's more, of course," he said. "There is what Voldemort did to Anastasia and Edwina." 

     "What did he do?" Riddle held his hand up. "No, I think we get the message of his," here Riddle curled his lip back with disdain and disgust, though anger blazed brightly in his eyes, "ruthlessness; there is no need to show us. Just tell us, as I have a feeling that their fate was different from what happened here." 

     Francis slumped on the floor, a Sirius-like lost look plastered upon his face. His shoulders shook with a ragged breath. Draco gently allowed Harry to finish sliding to the floor. He sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. He pulled her back against his chest. 

     Cousin Quigley nervously wrung his hands. "Pandora came to Godric's Hollow about half an hour after this occurred," he said. "She found Jonathon's head where Voldemort had left it, but there was no sign of his body, or James anywhere. She went to the twins' flat to inform them of their brother's death, only to learn that someone had been there before herself." Cousin Quigley wrapped his arms around his knees again. "Anastasia and Edwina were all in pieces, but their heads were still attached to the torsos, and," he paused a moment, as if searching for the right thing to say, "and still alive. Still very much in pain." He closed his eyes. "Th-they spoke to Pandora, begged her to end the pain." 

     He sniffed and dabbed at his eyes. "This was always the hardest vision for me as a child. Pandora had just seen the damage done to Oliver and his family. When she went to the twins, to tell them about it as much as to lean on them for support, she did not expect to see them to have been attacked as well, but still alive, magically trapped in their bodies. Anastasia still had one arm. She reached out and grabbed Pandora's ankle, but she couldn't say anything because her vocal box had been torn out. Edwina was the one who spoke. Pandora went into hysterics and screamed and screamed. I'll never forget that sound." He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "She wouldn't stop screaming until after . . ." Cousin Quigley's voice trailed off. 

     Tom Riddle's voice was hard as stone. "Until after what?" 

     Cousin Quigley sounded very small. "Until after I came and had to kill the twins to end their misery." 

     "How?" 

     "I did what you were too cruel to do." Cousin Quigley climbed to his feet. He looked directly into Riddle's eyes. "I cast the Killing Curse to finish their lives as quickly and as painlessly as I could. I couldn't think of anything else to use." 

     Riddle's eyes narrowed dangerously. He stepped across the dark space until he stood directly before Cousin Quigley. Cousin Quigley hands clenched into fists as his side, refusing to flinch or wince as Riddle towered over him. Riddle's presence darkly hinted of how used he was to being in control, that he always was in every situation because he was the strongest, and everyone knew it, and he had little liking or use for Cousin Quigley. "The dead," he said softly, his voice almost too quiet to hear in the darkness, "do not have the power to use the Killing Curse." 

     Cousin Quigley bristled, as if angry, but his words were bitter and resentful. "I never died." His hands clenched into fists at his sides and his shoulders trembled. "I was never permitted to die. So I drank instead, because when I was drunk, the visions couldn't come. I couldn't Wander." He deflated. Cousin Quigley never seemed to hold on to his anger for very long. It was almost as if he never had the strength or energy to. 

     Francis stirred and spoke. "How?" In the darkness, his voice sounded like a little child begging to know the answer to what they felt was an unjust punishment 

     Cousin Quigley's eyes flickered over to Francis. His bitterness softened into a pensive regret as he wrung his hands. "There is always a slight difference in every reality. I am the only Cousin Quigley whom the Mirror of Rebounds preserved. The only one that was not allowed to expire." He turned his back to them and hunched over. "The only one." He looked at Severus. "I'm sorry," he whispered sincerely. 

     With those final words, the Mirror of Rebounds spat everyone but Cousin Quigley out. 

     "That's it?" Harry asked, feeling stunned and insulted. She stood up and stumbled over to the Mirror of Rebounds. "I mean, I know that I certainly don't want to see how Anastasia and Edwina died, but how did the Mirror of Rebounds preserve you?" She felt frustrated and morose after all she learned, nor did she have the strength to look at Francis. She reached out to the Mirror of Rebounds. 

     "Harry!" Severus jumped to his feet. "Don't you--" 

     "Come on! What's the idea behind hiding?" Harry poked the Mirror of Rebounds, and then remembered belatedly of what happened whenever she or Severus touched it. 

     Pandora's Box sprang open with a wild snap. Dark green power leapt out of it like a crazed animal. The Mirror of Rebounds jumped on the spot and tottered about wildly. The power slammed into everyone and Harry fell over from the impact, nearly blacking out at the burst of pain from her scar. She dimly heard Riddle cursing. In a mishmash of colors, she felt magic flare uncontrollably from where she knew Riddle stood. The Mirror of Rebounds rattled as magic crashed into power. The Mirror of Rebounds spun about on its hinge. A vacuum from inside of it sucked everything into it. 

     The world was a mess of jumbled pictures. The reality tunnel they fell through trembled from strain as the power and magic, battling against one another, ricocheted off the walls. Riddle's magic flared out of control again and slammed against the dark green power. Harry covered her scar with her hands and bit her lip to keep from screaming from the pain. 

     They fell out of the Mirror of Rebounds into a different reality. The landing upon wooden floors jarred Harry enough for the pain to somehow be shaken loose. The Mirror of Rebounds landed beside her with a clunk. A small wisp of smoke trailed out of its glass. 

     "Damn you," Riddle muttered from where he was a crumpled heap on the floor. He painfully pushed himself up on his hands and knees, swayed dizzily, and then fell on his face. "It's poisoned," he hissed. He lifted his head to glare weakly at Harry and the others. His mouth opened and closed several moments as he gulped for air. He wrapped one arm around his waist as he pushed himself to his other hand and knees. "It's poisoned. How can you expose yourself to such filthy _rot?_" 

     Francis sat up. He looked around the small sitting room of Dinsmore, and leaned against the wall. "We knew it was tainted," he said hoarsely, "but we did not know it was poisoned. Now you see what we're working with?" He grinned unexpectedly. "I guess this means that you are coming with us." 

     Riddle's sudden intake of air sounded painful to Harry. "That's my power in that box, and it's poisoned." He lowered his head and moaned. 

     "Your reaction," said Severus dryly from where he hovered next to the fireplace, "was rather violent towards it." 

     Riddle said nothing. He looked up and stared at the entrance just as someone stepped through it. Dumbledore looked older than Harry had ever seen him before. His face was a terrifying mask of anger, and his hand trembled from the force he clenched his wand so tightly with. His eyes were pinpoints of devastating fury as he surveyed the reality jumpers, though shock was apparent when he looked at Francis, and then at Harry and Harry2, but it was dismay when he saw Severus floating in mid-air, as transparent as always. When his eyes settled on Tom Riddle, who stared back with bold defiance, fury flared in them once again. 

     "You," said Dumbledore as he carefully stepped over to Riddle's side, until only an arm's length separated them. His voice shook and his eyes narrowed even more as he pointed his wand at Riddle. "Who are you?" 

     Riddle gave him a charming smile. "It's good to see you too, Albus Dumbledore," he said. Then he vomited at Dumbledore's feet.   
  
  
  
**author's notes:** I have been away from my computer for the past few weeks. I winded up writing the next chapters and placing them in my email as a save file. ^^;; I realize that the past three chapters just drag because there is very little movement beyond Dinsmore. I do this because to move quickly, to have Tom Riddle agree immediately so they Jump along to another reality, would compromise Riddle's character as I write it. I find I cannot compromise characters and their personalities. It would go against my ability to write personable characters (not to mention how it is one of the most common things I complain about while reading other people's writing, so for me to do it would make me a hypocrite, and I have enough faults as it is).   
I did take the opportunity of stalling to further Harry2's background. It's slightly shaky, but then he's a shaky character to deal with. I also tried to explain Draco's character a bit more, since I don't like the way he's falling a little flat. Lastly, the last two chapters are depressing. They're supposed to be. On the other hand, this one ended on a high note. =)   
  
**Acy:** I am confused about what you are asking. Could you be a bit more clear? I looked over chapter one and couldn't find where it was said that Pandora betrayed Voldemort before Francis died. _Unless_ it's about the protraits. Pandora betrayed Voldemort before he burned Francis' portrait.   
  
**Punisher:** Where do I assume things? Francis' logic is based off of a level of thinking that goes in multiple directions. If he sorts through Pandora's information and reaches conclusions that's not what other people expected, it's because he has lived and worked with Pandora, as a partner and lover and spouse, that they understand each other as only two such people could. They're used to translating each other's words on different levels. I looked over chapters 10 and 12 in A Gutter Rat's Tale, and found nothing that could be confusing. At least, I didn't think so. On the other hand, the style I used for Severus Snape's voice is somewhat archiac, so it may not translate easily for you. The same relationship existed between [good] Tom Riddle and Pandora. Harry always assumed he was simply dreaming when he Wandered, and Tom Riddle had some doubts about his own state of wakefulness. Pandora's cane was solid and realistic, and laid the foundation for belief and confirmation.  
And as for assumption, the entire art of writing is based upon assumptions. I can explore possibilities and chances where doing so in your field is otherwise extremely dangerous. A Gutter Rat's Tale was written based upon the assumption that this was how it _might_ be _if_ Severus Snape was a gutter rat rescued by Pandora. Pandora's Box is written upon the assumption that this is what someone of her personality would push people in to, assuming that Cousin Quigley was willing to use the events to his own cause. This is assuming that such people react in such ways. This is assuming this is possible in the Harry Potter universe. This is assuming characters that aren't mine is going to do as I want without corrupting their personality. This is assuming . . . Writing is assumption.   
And as for having an intriguing pen name . . . =) Thank you. You are the first person to ever say this. I dug this name out because it was French for cute and graceful. I wanted something that wasn't based off of pop-culture or connected to the books. Just something I could call me. As a hindsight, I realized later it may be difficult for people to type, let alone spell right. >.>   
  
**Hana-chan:** Draco as a girl is a frightening idea. Draco as a girl chasing after the two Harrys was a worse idea. As Harry2 said, "Better you than me. Or Draco, for that matter." Imagine a PMS-ing Draco with female hormones! 


	23. Chapter 23

     "Well." Dumbledore handed Francis' letter back. They were all seated in a different room this Dinsmore this time, filled with various couches and fluffy chairs. Riddle was sprawled across one couch, his head on one armrest and his feet hanging over the other armrest. A bowl rested on the floor next to him and a damp cloth on his forehead as one arm drooped over his eyes. 

     Harry and Harry2, sharing a couch together, could not summon the sympathy others had for Riddle. "He's not the only one effected by the power," Harry2 had said defensively as he pointed at his scar. Harry nodded her head in silent, morose agreement. 

     "Well, at least this," Dumbledore lifted his cup of tea to his lips, "explains why you are here." 

     "It needs some rewriting," Francis said as he looked over the letter. "We found a good Tom Riddle. We also have a disguise here for Harry," he nodded his head at his grandson-turned-granddaughter, "and that should probably have to be explained." He looked hopefully at Dumbledore, who smiled for the first time since they entered the current reality. 

     "I," said Dumbledore with a hint of cheer, "wouldn't mind writing you this letter in the least." Francis grinned and handed it back to Dumbledore. "As long as I know that a reality succeeds where this one failed." His cheer dissipated. He stared at the letter for a long time. His air of vigor, which Harry always made Dumbledore seem young, was gone. He then looked over at Harry and Harry2. "It's good to see how young and peaceful you look," he said softly. He hurriedly rubbed his eyes. "Well, I need some parchment and a quill with ink." He stood up. "I shall be right back." 

     As he exited the room, Harry sighed and slumped against Harry2. "How very depressing all of this is," she said in a moment of insight. She sniffed and rubbed her nose. "So when are we going to be home?" she asked finally. 

     Severus laughed mirthlessly from where he floated beside Francis' chair. "Depends on whether or not Riddle's reaction is the same for very jump. This could take a long time." 

     Riddle stirred. He dropped his arm and lifted his head to give Severus a cold scowl. "That magic is mine," he said finally, "and it's tainted, poisoned. It's vile and corrupt, and I felt it grab at me and try to leech my own magic." 

     "Which didn't go over too well," Francis said. 

     Riddle settled down and drooped his arm over his eyes again. "No; my magic fought rather bravely against it." 

     "But all of it can't be your own magic," Francis pointed out. 

     Riddle's finger wagged at Francis. "Oh no. I can sense Pandora in it as well." He shifted his body into a more comfortable position on the couch. "It makes well-enough sense. If she stripped the power of Voldemort, she would have to use her own to bind it." 

     "Is there enough?" 

     "Hmm?" Riddle peeked at Francis from beneath his arm. 

     "Is there enough power there to get us home?" 

     Riddle smiled. His white teeth were a sharp contrast against his bronze skin. "Oh yes," he said pleasantly. "There's an infinite source of power there. Pandora must have used all of her magic to drain my own." Severus' head snapped about at those words. His eyes were wide, but he remained silent. 

     "How did she drain it?" Francis asked. 

     Riddle continued to smile. "I don't believe you want to know," he said cheerfully. "Trust me on this." 

     Francis' face turned bright red at those words. With an unhappy grimace, he clasped his hands together in his lap and stared morosely down at them. 

     "Shouldn't we be in my reality?" Harry2 asked. He shrugged as the others gave him panicked looks as they instantly recalled who his mother was. "I mean, we were at my reality before we jumped to the good Tom Riddle's. What are we doing here?" 

     Francis rubbed his cheek. "It may be we are skipping an odd number of different realities. In which case, we may just fly past our own." He frowned thoughtfully. "On the other hand, Riddle's reaction may have knocked us off-course." 

     "Wouldn't be the first time," Harry said. 

     "True, true. Interaction from other magic which may occur during a Jump would, perhaps, nudge us a little off-track. I noticed that there were several realities that were in direct contrast to the average reality we jumped through. One trend that occurs steadily throughout the realities is Harry's, ah, preference for, um." Francis' face turned red again. 

     Severus' mouth twisted. "We can cope with it just being called a preference," he said. 

     Draco snorted. "I'll have you know," he said firmly, "that it is not a preference, nor a choice. We are what we are. It is completely natural. There is nothing we can do to change it any more than we can change our gender." 

     Harry threw her cushion at Draco. It bounced off his forehead. 

     "Ah." Draco rubbed his forehead as Harry crossed her arms before her chest and glared. "Bad choice of words." 

     Francis waved his hands for attention. "Yes, yes. The thing is, there were five realities that stood in direct-contrast to the others realities we Jumped through. Firstly, the reality Harry, Severus, and I all originate in. Cousin Quigley claims to be the only one of his sort in all other realities. Going from there, it is also the only reality where Severus was pushed through time, or I was pushed through time, or Harry does what he does because he is part Snape. Secondly, your reality." Francis pointed at Harry2, who nodded. "Your reality is the only reality where you, as far as we know, is a fire demon who got adopted by another demon. You two Harrys are the only Harrys that we met and we know does not have the preference we were discussing earlier." Francis paused a moment. He studied Harry and Harry2. "Right?" he asked, sounding unsure. 

     Harry and Harry2 nodded their heads vigorously. "Absolutely," they said together. 

     Francis nodded to himself. "All right. Now, there may have been a few realities that we Jumped through that this may not have been the case, but we don't know because we were passing through--" 

     "As quickly as possible so we wouldn't get killed," Severus cut in. 

     Francis nodded. "There is that. Thirdly is Draco's real--" Francis stopped just as Dumbledore entered the room. He carried a parchment and a quill. 

     "Don't mind me," said Dumbledore cheerfully as he sat down in the chair as earlier. There was something light and hopeful about the movement of his hands and twinkling in his eyes. Youthful hope brought color to his papery skin. 

     Francis looked at Dumbledore as the old headmaster set the ink before him and rolled open the parchment. "We were discussing a few theories," Francis said to Dumbledore, who merely nodded and dipped his quill into the ink. "Thirdly," Francis turned back to his companions as Dumbledore ignored them in favor of the letter he was writing, " and fourthly is Draco's and she who we have termed 'Amazon Ginny's' reality. We've only been through another like it, where Harry married someone who survived, but Harry was dead because of a battle with Voldemort, and Nagini was left alive to finish destroying those who stood before Voldemort and, seemingly enough, everything else that exists. The fifth and final reality is Riddle's. For other such obvious reasons for its differences, it's also the only other reality we've ever been through where we know I married Pandora." 

     "But still died when you fell off your broom and broke your neck," Severus snidely pointed out. 

     Riddle shifted on the couch. "Odd that," he said in a cheery voice. 

     Francis frowned suspiciously. "Yes," he muttered with his eyes trained upon Riddle, "odd that, indeed." He shook himself as a wet dog often does when it comes out of a moisture-ridden environment. "Isn't it odd that we should go from a reality where Draco is twenty-two to a reality where Draco is still in school?" 

     Harry's eyes widened. "Draco is how old?" 

     Harry2's eyes widened as well. "When was Draco still in school?" 

     Severus straightened. "In the reality where both Francis and Black were engulfed by Fawkes, the Severus Snape I sought out was instructing potions--Draco was one of the students." 

     "Wait." Harry scratched her head. "When did you tell Francis this when I wasn't around to hear it?" 

     Francis leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "When you were inquiring after a good Tom Riddle in the reality where Severus was Harry's father. Anyway, after the reality with that very odd phoenix happenstance," Francis shuddered, "we went to the reality with the Amazon Ginny, which was another abrupt time jump. After that reality, everything was following pretty much the same pattern we were going through before we Jumped into Draco's reality. After some more jumping, we reached Harry's and Marcia's reality. It's almost if there's a gap between those realities, just as if there seems to be a gap between the Draco and Ginny realities." 

     Riddle snorted. He slowly lifted himself into a seated position. He swayed side-to-side for a moment, looking slightly green around the mouth, but after a few deeps breaths the color disappeared. "Don't mind me," he told Dumbledore as he transfigured some lint he found in his robes pockets into a sheet of parchment and a quill. He dipped his quill into Dumbledore's ink and drew a circle on the parchment. "Since," he said without looking at the others, "we are on the subject of theories, I'd like to toss this out for Francis to munch on." 

     Francis craned his neck in an attempt to see what Riddle was drawing, but the parchment curled backwards. It effectively blocked Francis' view. Francis sighed and fidgeted in his seat. Severus floated to Riddle's side and peered over his shoulder at what was being drawn. "You're a much better artist than Francis," he said. 

     Francis winced. He muttered something under his breath of how drawing was never his forte. After some time, Riddle finished his drawing. He re-transfigured the quill back into a bit of fluff (albeit damp with ink, which he rubbed between his fingers), and handed the parchment to Francis. 

     Francis glanced over it, and then at Riddle. He tilted the drawing so Harry and Harry2 could see it. It was a drawing of a cross of arrows, with the top arrow pointing at N, the bottom arrow pointing at S, the right arrow pointing at E, and the left arrow pointing at W. "The point of this is?" 

     Riddle sank down against his armrest. He propped his elbow on it and supported his head. "Think of your original reality as a point somewhere on the map. Think of your destination as a different point in this compass; say the center, for reasons of clarity. Measured in a straight line, to go from one point to another, you must travel in the same direction. If there is only a little difference between the realities--because, from what I understand as Harry has explained it, it only takes a single difference for realities to break apart--then, for someone who was passing through and not looking for the multiple tiny differences, the realities would appear the same. For all intents and purposes, because you are heading in the same direction, the path you follow allows for a recurring theme." 

     Francis looked immensely interested as he glanced down at the drawing. "That's true," he said finally. "Harry's preference is a recurring theme. Except for those few realities, it remains consistent." He frowned and tapped the parchment. "If that is so," he said, "then it means that there were places where we were knocked off the path, and then back on." He looked up. "There was too much of a difference between Draco's reality, and then the next reality, and then Ginny's reality, and then the next reality after that for it to remain on the same line. Not with the timelines being the way they were, at least." 

     Dumbledore cleared his throat, attracting everyone's attention. Francis looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he said as he sheepishly fiddled with his goggles. "I didn't mean to leave you out of the conversation." 

     Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Not at all," he said. "I understand that all of this is over my head because I don't know how or why all of this occurred, and it's probably too long of a story to explain." He handed his written letter to Francis, who silently rolled it up along with Riddle's drawing and stuck them in one of his pockets. "You should be going now," Dumbledore said as he looked over his glasses at them. "It's a long journey you still have." 

     Francis nodded. "Yes." He stood up. "Is, is there anything we can do for you before we go?" he asked as the others stood up, Riddle moving the slowest. 

     Dumbledore reached out and patted Francis' upper arm, his eyes bright. "Seeing you, alive after so many years, still thinking and still looking for solutions, has done me good." He looked at Harry and Harry2. His mouth trembled as he looked at them with no small amount of wistfulness. "It's enough." After a moment, he turned to Riddle. "And you," he said with a warning in his voice, "best do well." 

     Riddle smiled and bowed, his arms spread wide. "Don't I ever?" he asked. 

     Draco rolled his eyes. "That's a matter of personal opinion," he said. 

     Francis led the way back to the parlor room they had the Mirror of Rebounds and Pandora's Box. He stared at them with trepidation. "Well?" he asked the others over his shoulder. 

     "Well, what?" Severus asked. 

     "Are we ready?" 

     There was a familiar chorus of No's. Francis rolled his eyes. "I'll take that as a yes," he said. "Deep inside, you all secretly know you want to get over this as soon and as fast as possible. Severus, Harry, if one of you would be so kind?" He stepped to the side and gestured to the Mirror of Rebounds. 

     "Wait," said Dumbledore. He looked over Riddle's figure, and then offered him the large tin bowl that had sat beside the couch Riddle had laid upon. "You may need this in the future." Riddle's expression was sour as he reluctantly accepted the tin bowl. 

     Severus pointed one ghostly finger at Harry. "It's your turn," he said firmly. 

     Harry's mouth drooped downward. "But I started the Mirror of Rebounds last time!" 

     "I know; through sheer stupidity. It's your turn to do it properly." 

     Harry grimaced. She silently questioned that logic as she walked over to the Mirror of Rebounds. She pressed the flat of her hand against the dark glass. Pandora's Box rattled and Riddle flinched. Nothing happened. Harry dropped her hand and gazed at the Mirror of Rebounds. She could see a faint outline of the reflected surroundings in the mirror. She prodded the frame. Again, Pandora's Box rattled, but nothing occurred. Harry looked at the others with wide eyes. "I think it's broken," she said in a guilty voice. 

     With those words, she was abruptly sucked into the Mirror of Rebounds with no further movement from either it or Pandora's Box. 

     Draco broke the silenced shock. "What just happened?" he asked as he rubbed his temples. "And where did Harry go?" 

     "That," said Francis as he approached the Mirror of Rebounds, "was not normal." He bent over to peer at the dark glass. 

     "What do we do now?" Harry2 asked. 

     Francis straightened up, "I have no idea." 

     "It's Quigley," Severus said darkly. He stalked-floated over to the Mirror of Rebounds. "How much do you want to bet he had something to do with this?" He picked up the Mirror of Rebounds. The lid of Pandora's Box flew open. The power slammed into others, knocked the tin bowl out of Riddle's arms, and roared with fury. The Mirror of Rebounds sucked Severus into itself. Suspended in the air, it drew Francis, Harry2, and Draco in as well. 

     Riddle and Dumbledore stood firmly against vacuum. Power rippled in the air. It flowed out of Pandora's Box, a stream of dark green and baby-powder blue, and circled the room twice before it disappeared into the Mirror of Rebound's spinning vortex. 

     "Aren't you going?" Dumbledore shouted over the resulting roar. 

     Riddle looked decidedly ill. He gulped twice. "I felt someone activate this entire scene," he shouted back. He paused a moment to take a steady breath. "Something is leading us on." His eyes narrowed dangerously. Magic sputtered around his form, only to be sucked into the vortex. "And we shall see where it takes us." He took two unsteady steps forward, his magic sputtering and flaring sporadically. He paused and looked at Dumbledore. "You may want to duck." He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and shouted wordlessly as magic exploded around him and enveloped the area in a blast of neon green. 

     When the color cleared, everything was as it was before the reality-jumpers had arrived. Dumbledore looked around with wide eyes, shrugged, and then left the room. A few minutes after he left, Cousin Quigley and the Bloody Baron emerged from the shadows. 

     "I'm glad," Cousin Quigley said weakly, "that I had grabbed this when I had a chance." He stared morosely at the bottom of the tin bowl he held. " I'm sure Tom Riddle won't mind in the least if I borrow it for a moment." 

     The Bloody Baron sneered at Cousin Quigley. "And what did happen to Harry?" he asked. 

     "Oh, Lordy, don't ask me," Cousin Quigley replied as his head bowed 

     over the bowl. "Somewhere into the past of this reality." He moaned, and then dry-heaved once. "I better go get him," he said. The Bloody Baron nodded his head. 

     "See that you do. In the mean time, I'll have the others wait." 

     "Do, please." Cousin Quigley steadied the bowl in one hand as he wiped his mouth in the other. "They're in the past as well. Riddle threw enough power at the Mirror of Rebounds that I managed to jerk them back to Harry's and Francis' original reality. Except there was a bit of an imbalance, and the Universe was being stubborn, so they're really far back into the past. To get them out, I'll have to send them to a separate reality when they Jump again. Before that happened, I must have Harry with them." 

     The Bloody Baron frowned. "I don't like the sound of that," he said. 

     Cousin Quigley lifted his head and smiled sweetly at the Bloody Baron. "History now comes to play," he said sagely. The Bloody Baron looked at him with narrowed and suspicious eyes.   


     Marcia ran down a Hogwarts hallway. Sirius, perched upon her shoulder, clung to one ponytail to remain seated. Nandin followed after Marcia, a silver shadow compared to Marcia's dark blur. She skidded around a corner and slammed unexpectedly into a dark torpedo. As she fell backwards against Nandin, she caught a glimpse of a speeding green hand. 

     "That does it!" Marcia jumped to her feet, drawing Nandin's sword in a single movement. Nandin ducked before the swinging weapon accidentally decapitated him. "I'm going after that creepy thingy! Take Sirius!" She shoved Sirius into Nandin's hands, and then followed after the gigantic green hand as it slipped through realities and hurled backwards through time, guided by its own mysterious power and a faint idea of where to go.   


     Harry trudged through the dark forest. Even with the stretched branches and their large leaves, cold rain still drenched Harry to the bone. It was night out, and she was alone in a forest that she was glad to believe that was not the Forbidden Forest. It did not feel dangerous, as Draco's world had felt. She just felt lost. 

     "Where am I?" she yelled at the branches overhead. As if to mock Harry, the branches trembled from a sudden gust of wind, and released their accumulated moisture. It was as affective as dumping a gigantic bucket of water upon a drowning person, but Harry recognized mockery when she saw it. 

     With a quiet grumble under her breath, Harry wrapped her arms around her fiercely-shivering form, and trudged forth in search of shelter. The robes she wore were soaking wet. Rivulets of water ran down her face and neck, and when she moved forward, droplets fell from her hair. Harry squinted in the darkness as she moved her feet carefully. 

     When she first appeared in this reality, she had landed face-first in a shallow pool of rain water. As if that wasn't enough, it started to rain, and a chilly wind blew. It sucked all remaining warmth away from Harry. At the moment, her fingers and feet felt like blocks of ice. Harry reasoned that as long as she kept moving, she would remain warm. It did not feel she was warm at the moment, but movement kept the creeping chill from invading too quickly. 

     Harry knew that she should wait around for Francis and the others to show up, but she also knew that there had been something wrong with how she had even happened into this reality. It felt like a hand had pressed against her back and shoved her forward as the Mirror of Rebounds opened up. Francis was not around for her to tell this to. 

     "Well," she groused under her breath, "he can just come looking for me." With that thought firmly in mind, she continued to move. "I'm freezing cold." Any place had to be better than just standing still. Harry tucked her hands under her armpits and quickened her pace slightly. She tried to go in as straight a line as possible, not wanting to get lost or walk around in circles. 

     Harry stopped only three times. Twice to sneeze, and once to trip over a hidden root. She skinned her hands against other roots, banged her knee on a stone half-buried beneath old leaves, and mashed her breasts against the soppy ground, which was what hurt the most. With a low growl, she stood up and viciously kicked the root, nearly falling over from the abrupt shift of balance. Her foot was too frozen and too numb for her to feel anything. She whirled around, stumbled again, and stormed away from the root. Anger sizzled inside of her. She knew, on one hand, it was irrational to be mad at the root. On the other hand, she was cold, wet, and decidingly miserable. It felt good to feel irrational to an inanimate object that could not defend itself. She stopped walking and gently massaged one sore breast. It ached from the cold and from the fall she took. 

     She continued to trudge through the dark forest. It took Harry a few moments to realize the trees were beginning to thin. She stopped and squinted at the dark trunks. She rubbed her blurry glasses. She looked around the sparse trees, and stepped over some brush that snagged at her robes. She tugged her hem free, and hurried forward. 

     A light emerged from the dark. Drawing closer, Harry saw it was a candle burning steadily on a windowsill. Eagerness exploded like lit fireworks inside Harry. With a desperate laugh, she lurched forward and hurried to the dark house that blended so well with the darkness she had not noticed it earlier. 

     "Harry!" a voice yelled above the constant drip-drip of rain. 

     Harry stumbled to a halt. "Huh?" 

     Cousin Quigley hurried out of the darkness. "Harry, we have to go back." 

     "What?" Harry jumped out of Cousin Quigley's reach as he stretched his hand out to her. "Do you know how I got here?" 

     He instantly looked uncomfortable. "Um, yes." 

     "You stay away from me!" Harry stumbled backward away from Cousin Quigley and toward the house. "Ever since I met you, I've been miserable!" She stopped when she realized she was shouting. "Well, maybe not since, but that's nothing compared to now. I'm cold, I'm wet, I hurt, and I want something hot and stiff to drink!" She reached the side of the house. She ran her hands along the side and looked for a door. 

     "Um, Harry, I wasn't the one who made you come here though." 

     "No. You_ never _make anyone do anything." Harry glared at Cousin Quigley as she ran along the side of the house, her hand flat against the wet wood. "You just manipulate them as easily as a Slytherin does! You make a _good _Snape!" Cousin Quigley winced and looked ready to burst into tears. Harry immediately felt awful for what she said as she regarded how much her barbed words had hurt him. She stopped running. "I'm sorry," she said nervously. Cousin Quigley gazed at her with pained eyes. "I'm just not having a very good time, you just happen to be a good source to take things out on, and I don't mean it, really? It'll pass eventually," she ended with a hint of optimism. 

     The look of sympathy that passed over Cousin Quigley's face was surprising not only in its swiftness, but also from the nervousness that flashed through his eyes. "Oh." He glanced over Harry's figure. "Ooooohhhh." 

     Harry placed her hands on her hips. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, her irritation returning once more. 

     "You just said that you're not having a very good time." 

     "I'm not." 

     Cousin Quigley nodded knowingly. "I understand," he said as he walked to Harry's side. "I was married. I know greatly about women's passing moments. I was married at one time, and had an older sister myself." He patted Harry's arm comfortingly. Harry rolled her eyes and continued around the house in search of a door. 

     "Um, Harry?" Cousin Quigley hurried to keep up. "We really should be going." 

     Harry ignored him as she spied steps. "Ah hah!" She hurried over to the steps to see they led to a door. "Hah!" 

     "Harry, I don't feel comfortable." 

     "Neither do I," Harry replied nastily as she mounted the steps and lifted her hand to knock. 

     Cousin Quigley's eyes flickered about as he anxiously wrung his hands. "But you don't know who could be here!" 

     "I am cold," Harry said fiercely. "I am wet. My breasts hurt, and I'm not used to having them, no thanks to Francis and his 'let's-disguise-Harry' idea. I'm getting out of this rain now!" 

     "But, Harry!" 

     Harry turned to the door and banged it smartly with her fist. "I don't care of Voldemort himself opens this door! I want out of the rain!" 

     "Oh, lovely!" a voice declared on the other side of the door. It swung inward. Harry squeaked and jumped back against Cousin Quigley. He braced himself against her weight. Together, they stared with horror at the dark and twisted creature standing before them. "This makes introductions easier," Voldemort said with a dangerous gleam in his slanted red eyes. "Do come in out of the rain. Wipe your feet off on the rug, and mind that step there." He stepped backward and watched Harry and Cousin Quigley with an interest that could only be described as hungry. "It's a doozy," he said in a husky voice. Harry briefly wondered if it was too late to flee into the rain. The slight narrowing of Voldemort's eyes and the way his hand twitched to his wand, Harry had a sneaking suspicion it was not a decidedly safe option. 

     Harry was all too aware of Cousin Quigley's unhappy glare as they reluctantly entered the house. The floor dipped below the threshold and Harry tripped and would have fallen over if Voldemort hadn't caught her sleeved shoulder with a strong arm. The warm air inside the cottage was a startling contrast from the cold outside. Harry began to shiver immediately. 

     "Hang your cloaks so they may drip-dry," Voldemort said cheerfully. He gestured at the coat rack on the wall beside them. Cousin Quigley, with only a small bit of hesitation, took his cloak off and hung it on one of the hooks. They looked expectedly at Harry. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to control her violent shivering. 

     "What?" she asked through gritted teeth. "It's not as if I was prepared for being landed here in the middle of--of--ah, ah ahplooooghghgh!" Voldemort kindly handed Harry a handkerchief after Harry up righted herself from her balance-losing sneeze. "I don't feel good," Harry whimpered. 

     Voldemort glanced from Harry to Cousin Quigley. "It's_ that_ time," Cousin Quigley said pointedly. 

     "Ah." Even Voldemort looked at Harry sympathetically. Harry wiped her nose, trying not to wonder what they meant by _that _time, or where the handkerchief had been before Voldemort's pocket. Voldemort's hand twitched. He withdrew his wand and pointed it at Harry. Her breath stopped in her lungs as color drained from her face. Next to her, Harry felt Cousin Quigley's hands suddenly grab her shoulders and pull her back into a protective embrace. 

     Amusement glinted in Voldemort's eyes as he cast a drying charm on Harry's clothes. "Interesting," he purred as he placed his wand back into his pocket. He cocked his head to the side and tucked his hands into his sleeves. "You both seem to know who I am, and that I am someone to be frightened of. Very few people do now. I am rather curious as to why that is." 

     Harry decided it was safe to breathe once more. "Why is what?" Her voice came out as a breathy squeak. 

     "Why? Because I've barely just begun my mission, and few people know of me. Yet." Harry shivered at the darkness that ran beneath the word, a hint of the evil destruction Voldemort planned for the future. "Come." His words were now normal and held no trace of the darkness he spoke with earlier. "A hot tea should warm you up after being out in the rain." 

     Cousin Quigley's hands reluctantly fell from Harry's shoulders. "Your father," he muttered as they trailed after Voldemort, "is going to do the one thing no one has ever done before, but no doubt is a common desire for many." 

     Harry took passing note of how the house was sparsely lit from an unknown source of light. The small waiting room they stood in led to a branching of rooms. The room to the left had various stuffed chairs, sofas, and a single rocking chair in the middle, as if to lord over all the other chairs. To the right, the room had two long tables, one of which was covered with various potion ingredients and cauldrons, beakers, ladles, and bottles. Directly before them, the room Voldemort had entered, was a kitchen. 

     "What's that?" Harry muttered to Cousin Quigley out of the side of her mouth 

     "Kill me." 

     "How can he? He's dead." 

     "I know that. You know that. Even he knows that! It wouldn't stop him if he and Dominic were to team up together though." 

     Harry shot a quick look over her shoulder. "Dominic?" she asked curiously. 

    Cousin Quigley's blue eyes held a warning as they flickered over to Voldemort. He stepped close to Harry and dipped his mouth close to her ears. "We_ don't_ want him to know anything. Less is better." Again, his hands clasped her shoulders, as if to steer her forward. Instead, he pulled her shoulders back, slowing her steps. "We do have to get out of here. _Now._" 

     "Oh no," said Voldemort as he turned around. Cousin Quigley and Harry jumped guiltily. Voldemort smiled. It was a gentle smile, but it did not reach his eyes. "You must stay for tea." Something dangerous gleamed in his eyes. "I do so insist." 

     Pain flared briefly in Harry's scar. She gulped and looked over her shoulder at Cousin Quigley for guidance. Cousin Quigley's hands gripped her shoulders tighter. He leaned against her. "Knowing you the way we do," he said slowly to Voldemort, "please forgive us for being reluctant." 

     "And that," said Voldemort cheerfully, "is why I must_ insist _you have tea with me. I am curious as to know why you two would know about me." 

     Harry felt the first inkling of anger stir in her chest. Cousin Quigley dropped his hands from her shoulders "Do you really want to know?" she asked. Voldemort turned around and walked over to the sink. He turned the faucet on as he reached for a tea kettle. Harry followed after him, her hands as tense fists at her side. In her mind, she easily recalled what he had done to her aunts, uncle, and cousin. How can any monster be so causal? 

     Cousin Quigley reached out and grabbed her arm. Harry jerked to a stop. She contemplated grinding her heel into his foot until he let go, but the pleading look he gave her calmed her anger enough for her to put aside the idea. Harry was not sure if she could take comfort in Cousin Quigley's presence. What would happen if Voldemort attacked them? Would Cousin Quigley defend her? Come to think of it, Harry was unsure what being a different gender did to her magic. 

     Voldemort moved to put the teakettle on the stove. With that finished, he turned around and observed Harry and Cousin Qu8igley with open hunger. "Now," he said with deceptive cheerfulness, "I believe now would be a good time for introductions. As you know, I am Tom Riddle." 

     Cousin Quigley and Harry exchanged puzzled looks. 

     "I'm Harry P--Evens." Harry cringed at stuttering out the lie, but she had switched abruptly because it was a bad idea to let him know what her real name was since she probably was not even born yet. 

     "Harry Pevens? An unusual name." 

     Harry shrugged. "Yeah, well, so's Voldemort." 

     He chuckled softly at that. "It is, but it suits me well." He looked at Cousin Quigley, who flinched and dropped his gaze on the floor. "And you?" 

     "Um." Cousin Quigley shuffled his feet. "Um. I'm Quigley." 

     There was a slight pause as Voldemort waited for Cousin Quigley to continue. "Quigley what?" he asked softly. 

     "He," said Harry hurriedly, "is my cousin." 

     "Ah, yes." Voldemort smiled. "I can see the family resemblance." 

     Harry twisted around to look at Cousin Quigley with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Where?" Cousin Quigley's face fell. Harry looked away from him with disgust. "Never mind," she muttered. 

     Voldemort tilted his head to the side. "You two do not get along very well, do you?" 

     Cousin Quigley bowed his head. "No one gets along with me," he said mournfully. He looked at Voldemort from beneath his eyelashes. "I don't suppose I could have a hot toddy to go with the tea, may I? 'Tis a very cold night out." 

     Voldemort nodded his head in agreement. "Yes. It is very cold. I could do with one myself." 

     "It's not so much," Harry said to Cousin Quigley, "that I don't get along with you--it's that you're, well, you're like Francis said--you're dismal. Oh, don't give me that look. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. If you don't want to be thought as dismal, then try to be a little less dismal." Harry remembered something that Francis and Severus had told her earlier. "Don't slouch," she said. "Pull your shoulders back." She smiled proudly. "Look every inch the fine Hufflepuff that you are!" 

     Cousin Quigley looked at Harry as if to wonder if hypothermia was affecting her brain. 

     "Ah, a Hufflepuff!" Voldemort clapped his hands together. "A fine House! And you, Harry? What is your House?" 

     "Ah." Harry's eyes flickered over Voldemort's tall, dark form. "Well, the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin." She hesitated a moment. One of Voldemort's thin eyebrows arched upward. "But I didn't want to go because there was this atrocious boy who got Sorted into the Slytherin house before me." 

     Voldemort's lips pursed together. "How atrocious was he?" 

     Harry shrugged. "Well, I'm sure that if I had pigtails, he would have dipped them in inkwells." 

     "But Harry," said Cousin Quigley, "boys generally only do that to girls if they like them." Harry's face turned red as she vividly remembered both the Draco of her reality, and the reality-jumping Draco who was accompanying them. Cousin Quigley thought about what he said, then looked at Harry's figure. "Oh." 

    The teapot whistled shrilly then. Voldemort turned to pick it off the stove. He turned the heat off with a single flick of the wrist. Humming off-tune beneath his breath, he turned to a cupboard to withdraw tea cups. He puttered about the kitchen, gathering the cream and sugar bowls close, as well as a bottle of liquor to add to the tea for a hot toddy. 

     With the condiments gathered next to the tea pot, Voldemort finally turned to Harry and Cousin Quigley. "How many lumps of sugar?" he asked. 

     Harry said nothing as she stared at him in wordless shock. _This_ was the man who would devastate the British Wizarding world in only a few years? _This _was the man who killed her parents? _This _was the man who slaughtered Oliverand Anne and Jonathan? He was too domesticated. 

     And then it struck Harry why it was too difficult for her to comprehend how he could be so casual knowing what he was going to do in the future. 

     He didn't care about anyone beyond himself. "You," she said furiously, "are si--" 

     Cousin Quigley slapped his hand over Harry's mouth before she could continue. "Three for me," he said. "A bit of cream as well, and be liberal with the liquor." He gave the bottle an eager look, and then winced as Harry viciously bit his hand. "And I don't think Harry is in the mood for tea." Harry flayed her hands. Cousin Quigley threw his other arm around her shoulders, trapping her arms against her sides. 

     "Yes." Voldemort gave Harry a searching look. "It seems she would do something questionable to my tea cups." He glanced at the tea cup he held. "I find I am rather fond of my china." Harry snarled something behind Cousin Quigley's hand, and then elbowed him sharply in the side. Cousin Quigley grunted and rolled his eyes. "Someone," he gasped, "wants a body bind!" 

     Harry stiffened. Her eyes rolled in her head. She twisted around to give Cousin Quigley a glare that would have made Severus proud. "I'll let you up with you don't cause trouble," he promised. 

     Behind his hand, Harry screeched words that would have made Cousin Quigley blush. He sighed. "I don't want to do it, Harry, but I _will _cast the body bind if I must." 

     Harry quieted then, but she still glared at him. Cousin Quigley slowly dropped his hands. She harrumphed and crossed her arms before herself. She glared at him and Voldemort. Voldemort seemed unperturbed by Harry's anger. He handed Cousin Quigley the hot toddy. Cousin Quigley looked at the drink with an expression of profound happiness. He cradled it close with shining eyes. 

     The Bloody Baron popped into existence at Cousin Quigley's side. "_WHAT _ARE YOU DRINKING?" 

     Cousin Quigley jumped guiltily, and then shoved the drink into Harry's hands. She grabbed it in surprise as it sloshed over her hands. "I was only going to taste it!" Cousin Quigley cried as he covered his head and refused to look at the Bloody Baron. 

     The Bloody Baron shook with fury as he paced the kitchen between Voldemort and Cousin Quigley. "How DARE you--" 

     "Oh," Harry gave the Bloody Baron her glare from earlier. He froze in mid-pace. "You hush! All you do is complain and pop up to cause trouble!" She glared at the tea, and then took a quick gulp. It burned pleasantly as it slid down her stomach. "This isn't bad," she said thoughtfully as she took another sip. Cousin Quigley looked ready to burst into desperate tears as he stared hungrily at the tea cup. 

     "How good?" he asked. He ignored the Bloody Baron, who sputtered angrily. Harry finished the rest of the tea, and then handed the tea cup to Voldemort. He took it without touching her hand. "That's good." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I could use another like that." 

     The Bloody Baron crossed his arms before himself as he looked around. "Why are we cavorting with the enemy?" he asked Cousin Quigley in a normal voice. 

     Cousin Quigley contrived to look guilty. "Because the enemy told us to come in, wipe our feet, but watch the first step because it was a doozy?" 

     "Or," said the Bloody Baron darkly as he leaned towards Cousin Quigley, "is it because the enemy offered you a drink." 

     Cousin Quigley guilty dug his toe in to the ground. "Not really," he said slowly. 

     "These are good," Harry said as she accepted the tea cup from Voldemort. He leaned against the stove and watched her with a hint of amusement. Reminded of the good Tom Riddle, Harry gulped down the hot toddy, and then held it out to Voldemort. One eyebrow went up at the speed she polished it off. She giggled as he took the tea cup from her. "This is all so very odd," she said as she giggled again. 

     The Bloody Baron looked at her. "Are you drunk?" he asked after a long moment. 

     Harry thought about that. "How much alcohol is going into these hot toddies?" she asked as she accepted another from Voldemort. 

     Voldemort glanced at Cousin Quigley as he replied. "A liberal amount." 

     Harry hiccupped as she finished the toddy. "Really good!" 

     "I think you've had enough," Cousin Quigley said as he gave the tea cup a pleading look. 

     The Bloody Baron sighed as he shook his head. "While Harry is getting drunk and you are here gallivanting with the enemy, Francis and the others are getting chased by heathen Indians who seem fascinated with the shade of Francis' hair." The Bloody Baron's smile was clear on how he rather enjoyed the idea of Indians chasing after Francis to render him scalpless. 

     "I think it is high time we are going," Cousin Quigley said to Harry as Voldemort grabbed the cup from Harry. Their fingers brushed against one another. Pain exploded in Harry's scar as Voldemort's flesh smoked and peeled. The tea cup fell to the floor and shattered. Voldemort's eyes flashed red and magic welled in the small kitchen like a swelling balloon. Harry toppled over backwards, off balance. She fell against Cousin Quigley, who grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her. 

     Cousin Quigley's voice was tense and high-pitched. "Defintelytimetogo! Bye!" He pulled Harry close and disappeared with a pop. The Bloody Baron looked stunned at Cousin Quigley's swiftness. And then he was bowled over by an explosion of magic.   


**author's notes:** Blah. My joints hurt, I can't breath, and if I move, I think my head will fall off. Luckily, I don't believe in spreading my misery (or sickness, when I can help it).   
The scene where Harry says she doesn't care if Voldemort himself opens the door, and he does of course, is something I have been burning to write since this whole reality-jumping began. =)   
Although I have been quite busy in the past with my college classes, I have been working as steadily as I could with Pandora's Box. I've also been working on a few seperate ideas for future stories, most of which I won't actively write until this is finished. I don't plan on Pandora's Box being longer than thirty chapters. I shall also be, in a few hours, changing the story summery. It will be more clear than what Pandora's Box currently has.   
  
**Burning Light:** The Mirror of Rebounds and pandora's Box were introduced on the spot purposely. You can't build up to someone's parting gifts when that someone departed rather abruptly, although I did plan on their having a purpose from early on in A Gutter Rat's Tale. Remember, Francis disappeared without any clue as to where he went and only the most blatant guesswork about his fate. I did plan on having him pulled into the future. There is also Severus' fate. By now, you know that Severus is Dominic's son. So how else could a wizard such as Severus possibly catch Pandotra's interest? Blood called to magic, but blood also called to blood. Severus did not know how he winded up on the streets, with no memories earlier than standing before a resteraunt's window with his fellow gutter rats. Perhaps the main reason the Mirror of Rebounds was not mentioned earlier was because I was still juggling the idea for depth and background. I didn't want to introduce it hastily, when I still did not have a very good idea as to what it was going to be like. I did try to leave openings for people to recognize if they ever were to reread A Gutter Rat's Tale. Pandora's Box was certainly never mentioned before, because it never existed until she used it to store Voldemort's power within.   
  
I feel honored that anyone considers my story worthy enough to take the time and read. Time is an important accomadity, and I greatly appreciate knowing that people enjoy it, as I do love to entertain people.  
  
**Punisher:** Unnatural darkness is an interesting concept, of and in itself. Most of the time, the potential for it exists, and while it can be nurtured for a certain concept, people often preempt themselves to their fates, so unnatural darkness can only really be nurtured for so much. **Soymilk:**


	24. Chapter 24

     As a ghost, there were few things Severus had difficult experiencing. Sensation of temperature was one of them. He often found himself guessing (an educated guess, nonetheless) at what the temperature was, by watching how the others reacted to the current weather. However, at the moment, almost all his companions were laying prone in the shadow of the butte he had dragged them into, away from the harsh sun overhead. It was difficult to deduce what the temperature was, but he had a fairly good idea, since heat waves rose up from the hard-packed and cracked dry ground. His companions were drenched with sweat even in the shade, but still prone from the violent trip through the Mirror of Rebounds. 

     He watched his companions for a moment. He supposed he could wait until they grew uncomfortable enough from the heat to come to, but he did not feel like waiting at the moment. Not with Harry missing. Severus wanted to discuss that with someone, preferably Francis. It was time for them to wake up and share his misery of existing--in the loosest sense of the word, of course. 

     Severus floated close to Tom Riddle and swung his foot back to kick him awake. 

     "Don't you dare," Riddle muttered, facedown against the ground. He stirred and looked up, dirt sticking to his damp face. There was a fine thread of silver hair through his otherwise think black hair, and it did not look good. He gave Severus a warning look as he slowly drew one arm up and then pillowed his face on it with a whispery groan. 

     That foiled, Severus tried his other prospect. He hovered over Harry2, who lay beyond the butte's shadows in the sunlight. A smile of pleasure twisted Harry2's features as he lay with his arms and legs spread out over the ground, as if to soak in as much sunshine as he possibly could. Severus had tried to move him into the shadows, but every time he did, Harry2 would unconsciously roll back into the sunlight. Severus figured if Harry2 died of thirst, then it certainly would not be due to _his _lack of concern. He supposed, on some level, this was typical of a fire demon to be more attracted to the dry heat rather than the somewhat-cooler shade. 

     Severus stuck his hand in the middle of Harry2's chest. Harry2's eyes popped open and he sprang into a sitting position, right into Severus' figure. With an indignant yelp, Harry2 rolled immediately to the side out of Severus. He fell on top of a scraggly bush of sagebrush, looked around, and then glared at Severus. "What's the big idea?" he demanded hotly as he untangled his shirt from the sagebrush. "You touched me!" 

     Severus looked down the length of his transparent body. "I've been violated!" 

     Draco sat upright, immediately awake. "Where?" He sounded more interested in the prospect that a violation had occurred, rather than who it had occurred to. 

     Riddle looked up. "You," he said pointedly, "are a ghost. How is being violated even possible for you?" 

    Francis stirred from where he was curled up in a tight ball. "Hmm? Whazza?" He stirred, yawned, and sucked in a mouthful of dirt. He went into a fit of coughing. 

     Draco brushed his sandy, sweaty hair back. "I'm hot," he said. He looked around the hilly area with a frown. "Toto, we ain't in Kansas no more." 

     Harry2 flopped down on his back again. "It's so warm!" he said cheerfully as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I love it!" 

     There was no reply as Francis finally coughed his lungs clear. He squinted at their dry surroundings, his eyes widening perceptibly as he studied the stray patches of sagebrush and few desperate-clinging grasses. He ran his hand over the dry ground and prodded a few cracks. There was a sense of helplessness about him as he slumped over and rubbed his eyes. After a moment, he stirred. "We're in a desert," he said with a faint voice, as if waking from a long sleep. He reached over and poked Riddle in the ribs. "How're you feeling?" he asked. 

     Riddle's voice sounded casual. "If I stand up, my head might fall off." There was a long pause as Harry2 flopped onto his stomach and basked in the sunlight. "If I move, I shall expel whatever contents remain in my body. I ache everywhere, I want to go back home to Pinky and my study room, and I wish you people had never entered my life. In short, I hate the world, and when a convenient scapegoat comes along, any who stand in my way of taking my misery out on it shall join the scapegoat for company." 

     "It could be worse," Severus said. Riddle looked at him. His eyes glinted. 

     "Oh yes." He lurched unsteadily to his feet. He straightened upward with his shoulders thrown back. He took a single cautious step forward. "How did you die?" he asked softly as he took another step forward. His balance regained, a confidence exuded from his form as he stalked forward. Severus' eyes widened slightly as he leaned back from Riddle. 

     Riddle smiled sardonically. "Hmm?" One eyebrow arched upward in a challenge. 

     Severus' eyes narrowed. "A fitting fate for one such as myself," he said with a lilt in his voice, as if he was reading poetry. He pressed his hand against the base of his throat. "You cut my throat with a knife and used my blood to bring a little shard of humanity back to yourself." 

     "So I took your life," Riddle reached out to Severus, "to repair some of my own?" He rested his hand on Severus' shoulder, or at least where he would have rested his hand if Severus were solid. The smile he gave Severus was clear that he had found his scapegoat. "What if I give you some of my life to repair your own?" 

     Beside Francis, Pandora's Box rattled. Francis reacted immediately by throwing himself on top of Pandora's Box to prevent its opening. 

     Neon-green magic blasted into a maelstrom around Riddle and Severus, and exploded upward in a gigantic wave of power.   
  
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    Thrown back into the past, through different layers of realities that whipped past Harry so fast she felt light-headed and dizzy just from watching, the wave of power slammed into Harry and Cousin Quigley. It sent them reeling head over heels through the surroundings dark mists. 

     "Emergency landing!" Cousin Quigley cried. His grip around Harry's shoulders tightened as he yanked her to the side. They dropped on a wooden surface. Harry's breath expelled from her lungs in a hard whoof. She gasped desperately for air, hiccupped, and then stared at the dark hooves and brown legs before her face. She straightened her glasses and looked up in time for a horse to give her a curious lick. 

     "Blah." She pulled away from it and stumbled to her feet. She glared at the horse as it twisted its head to the side and peered at her with one large brown eye. Its back hoof kicked forward as its tail swished. "Where are we?" she demanded as she looked around. Cousin Quigley was missing. Harry put her hands on her hips and scowled. She tried to think past the thick fog that filled her mind. She found herself leaning further back, and then fell backwards on her rear. It took a moment for the world to stop swirling around before she could gather a semblance of thoughts together. 

    She should figure out where she was. 

     With that decided, Harry looked around at the dirt road that constituted as a street, laying between the two rows of uneven, rough-looking buildings with weather-worn false fronts. 

     "Are you all right, Missy?" someone, with an accent that Harry could only momentarily recall belonging to Texas (if all the movies were right), asked. Stringy arms hooked beneath her armpits and hauled her to her feet. 

     "Whazza? Lemme go!" She kicked backwards. Her foot connected with something solid. The person who grabbed her grunted, and released her. She stumbled away from the person and leaned against the horse. She fiddled with her glasses as she observed the rugged man who stood before her. His age was undeterminable--it could be anywhere between twenty and fifty. His skin was dark from too much sun and his skin dry and parched from living in such an environment. He wore dusty chaps and a sweaty checkered long-sleeved shirt under a patched leather vest. Perched on his head was a ten gallon hat. His belt crisscrossed low over his hips, and if she wasn't mistaken, it seemed like a gun was hanging in a holster through which the belt was slung. 

     Harry leaned forward to get a closer look at it, and nearly fell over. She flayed wildly. The man reached out and steadied her. 

     "Are you feeling well, Missy?" he asked. Harry winced at his thick drawl. "The sun's mighty hot today." He looked at her with a friendly concern. "Are you with anyone? 'Tis unproper for a young lady like yourself to be without," he coughed behind a large, calloused palm, "proper companionship." 

     Harry looked around. There was no possible way she could still be in the United Kingdoms. A hot wind blew. It threw gritty dirt into her face and a tumbleweed rolled past her. She sighed. She was stuck in a Western. Maybe it had more plot than the bad guy tying up the saloon girl to the train tracks, who is then rescued by the hero just in the nick of time. "I was supposed to be with my cousin," she said. 

     He nodded. "You sound like a foreigner. Do you reckon you know where your cousin might be?" 

    "Cousin Quigley? If he could get away with it, he'd head for the nearest pub." 

    The man blinked. "Pub?" 

    Harry sighed. "Bar?" 

    "Oh." He frowned. "Well, I do recall a man named Quigley Snape. He's staying over at the hotel there." He pointed somewhere off to his left. "He does like the saloon, so I reckon he's there now. He sounds like you do." He gave Harry a sympathetic look. "I'll go fetch him for you." 

    Harry's expression darkened. So Cousin Quigley left her for a saloon? _When I get my hands on him, he's going to beg Uncle Hector to help him!_ "Point me the way and I'll get him myself!" 

     The man looked shocked at the idea. "Oh. Begging pardon, Miss, but, it's not a proper place for a lady like yourself." 

     Harry straightened upward to the best of her ability, since the ground was spinning beneath her feet again. "You're going to see exactly how much of a lady I am if you don't," she warned him in the best Snape-imitation she could manage. His eyes grew wide. 

     "Well, all right then." He offered Harry his arm, but she glared at him. He cringed and led her to the saloon. There was a pair of swinging half-doors. Over the doors was a brown sign where faded words, "The Lone Star," could still be seen. Cute, Harry thought. As she approached the entrance, she heard a soft hum of deep male voices. She stepped through the swinging doors and glared at the occupants as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the interior. It felt much darker to Harry, having been outside in the bright sunlight. Most of the people were seated at tables with glasses and mugs before them. There was a thick layer of smoke in the air. Everyone of the occupants in the saloon was male, ranging from young to fairly old. At the sight of Harry, they at once jumped to their feet and looked at her expectedly. She bravely threw her head back and ignored them as she strode into the center of the room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. 

     Harry coughed and glanced around for Cousin Quigley. She stared at the corner of the long counter in the center of the room. A familiar shape was slumped over the bar. "Ah hah!" Harry marched over to the shape. She could see Cousin Quigley's face, puffy from too much alcohol, cradled on his folded arms as he lay over the smooth countertop. A half-empty bottle sat next to him and a single thimble-like glass. She prodded him in the shoulder. "You. You wake up. I'm lost and stuck here in this bloody hot place, and you're in here drinking!" Cousin Quigley stirred. One blood-shot eye opened up and peered blearily at her. "You heard the Bloody Baron! We've got heathens chasing after Francis for his hair!" 

     Cousin Quigley sat up on the barstool. He rubbed his eyes and peered at Harry, as if seeing her for the first time. She scowled and placed her hands on her hips as she waited for him to respond. "Do I know you?" he asked finally. 

     "Of course you do, you twit. You didn't drink yourself into oblivion, did you?" He winced. "I'm Harry Potter. James' so--er, daughter. Pandora's granddaughter." Harry threw her hands up in the air and tried one last time. "Your cousin?" Cousin Quigley frowned. He looked puzzled. He started to reach for the bottle, but stopped when Harry yanked it out of his reach. "Oh no, you don't. The Bloody Baron said you couldn't have any." 

     Cousin Quigley's splotchy face drained of all color. "The Bloody Baron?" He slipped off his bar seat and landed on the floor with a thud. He climbed to his hands and knees. "I-Is he here?" He grabbed the edge of the counter and pulled himself up just enough to peer wildly over its surface. 

     "Not at the moment." She squinted at him in the saloon's dim light. In most situations, darkness was friendly to people. It obscured the cruel lines that Time etched in their faces. Cousin Quigley just looked fragile and lost in the darkness, hunching down so no one noticed him. Harry reached out to touch Cousin Quigley. He flinched backwards. She dropped her hand. "Are you okay?" she asked him with concern. He gave her a wide-eyed look. She sighed. "How're you feeling?" 

     Cousin Quigley giggled, which turned into a sob at the very end. "I was perfectly fine in my state of intoxication when a lady with haunting green eyes shows up on the most backwater town I could find in the whole bloody state of New Mexico, dressed in a witch's robes." He reached and grabbed the bottle. He tried to pull it free from Harry's grasp. "She knows my name, speaks of people I know nothing of, and brings to mine hearing the most atrocious person I have ever known." He looked ready to cry as he wrapped both hands around the bottle and tugged incessantly. 

     "Now I don't understand you." She leaned forward until their noses touches. Cousin Quigley's was cold and his eyes filled with fear. "I am too with people you know. Like Dominic, who you sent away." His breath stilled and his eyes widened impossibly. 

     "How did . . . ?" His chin trembled as he swayed unsteadily and clung to the counter. "N-no. You just heard of something and are guessing. You're from the wizarding world, aren't you? Why are you here bothering me?" 

     She frowned. "Because you're supposed to be helping me!" She set the bottle down on the counter with a solid thump. She tried to think through the haze that still covered her mind. Two single words from Cousin Quigley's earlier statement made themselves understandable. "Wait a minute . . . Did you just say we were in New Mexico?" 

    _And if you ever see me in a saloon somewhere in New Mexico, I don't know you. I really don't know you._

     Harry collapsed on the barstool next to him. "You don't know me," she said finally. 

     Cousin Quigley rubbed his nose and shook his head. "That's what I said," he said mournfully. 

     Harry rubbed her temples as she tried to think. A headache was beginning to form, a deep painful throb behind one ear. She considered taking a quick swig from the bottle she still held, but discarded that idea. "I'm your cousin Harry from the future," she said finally. "I am from the nineteen-nineties. I came here with your help, but I guess the problem was made worse by the Mirror of Rebounds." Cousin Quigley blanched again and hunched over, but said nothing. "I am here along with my great-grandfather, Francis, myself from a different reality--I'm not even supposed to be a girl!--my husband whom I never married, and a good Tom Riddle, who's supposed to be the solution to a bad Tom Riddle in my reality. Because I'll die otherwise, and that's what Pandora, my great-grandmother, told me to do." 

     She waited for Cousin Quigley to respond. He sighed and stirred. "Do you have a scar?" He slowly reached out and brushed Harry's hair back to reveal the lightening bolt-shaped scar. He listlessly dropped his hand. "Oh dear." He stood up. "Come with me." He walked forward to the entrance. Harry followed after him. She glanced at the occupants of the saloon, who watched silently with narrowed, angry eyes. Some people muttered as she passed, and one man with a bushy mustache scrunched up his lips and spat at Cousin Quigley's feet. 

     "These people are unrefined," Harry muttered as they passed through the swinging half-doors. 

     Cousin Quigley sighed as he pulled his wand out of a pocket. "They're Muggles," he said in a sorrowful voice. "Who overheard what we were speaking of. Cover your eyes." He moved back to the entrance. Harry watched him. "Cover your eyes," he told her again. Harry pressed her hands over her eyes and turned her back to Cousin Quigley. "Obliverate!" There was a sizzle of magic that caused the hair on the back of Harry's neck rise. 

     Cousin Quigley sighed and grabbed her upper arm gently. "Come," he said. "You will be here for a lengthy time." 

     Harry stumbled after him, unsteady for a moment before she rebalanced herself. "How do you know? The Bloody Baron said the Indians were going after Francis for his hair!" Cousin Quigley rolled his eyes. 

     "Francis can take care of himself," he said. "Whoever this Francis is. He does sound vaguely familiar. However, there is no one else around from the future but yourself." 

     "How do you know?" 

     Cousin Quigley waved his hand vaguely. "The Mirror of Rebounds is a vessel of knowledge, but it stores it through its ability to measure and record time. I, familiar with the Mirror of Rebounds, can, ah." Harry could see him struggle with finding the right words to speak with. "There is a parting of energies though, so they will be here soon, though I do not know how soon. In the mean time, I'd rather you dress like a local, or at least like someone of this time. It will help you blend in until you rejoin your companions. Come, I want to show you something." They were silent for a moment as they marched along the side of the buildings. The ground was dry and cracked, and felt hard as cement beneath Harry's shoes. "How much do you know?" Cousin Quigley asked finally. "How much do you know of the Mirror of Rebounds, of myself?" 

     Harry tried to pry herself from Cousin Quigley's grasp, but his grip was strong and his fingers hurt as they dug into her arm. "I know that you're trying to save the Universe because Voldemort would destroy it otherwise. If I die, apparently everything will go." 

     Cousin Quigley stopped walking. Harry pried herself free. Cousin Quigley leaned against the building and looked at Harry with bloodshot eyes. "Do you know why I am here in New Mexico? Or why you would be here in New Mexico?" Harry shook her head. He sighed again. "Do you know if you were to come into the past?" 

     Harry thought for a moment. "Well, you said, some time ago, that when I met up with you in New Mexico, you wouldn't know me." 

     Cousin Quigley studied Harry's face. "And your name is Harry?" 

     "Yes." 

     "Ah. You looked like a little boy, whom, well, I once saw." Agony filled Cousin Quigley's eyes as he gazed for a long moment at Harry. He sighed and shook his head. "There will be no stopping what will happen," he said sadly. 

     Harry said nothing as she let Cousin Quigley lead her to one of the stores. Its false front was weatherworn and dowdy in the hot noon sun. Harry could feel sweat beginning to gather at her forehead and various other places on her body. There was no wording on the window at the right of the crooked door Cousin Quigley opened. The window's bottom half was covered with a dark green curtain that hung from a wooden hanger. The door's hinges squealed in protest as they entered the cramped room. Various bolts of cloth were piled on tables. There were a few busts in the corner, and another tables with various corks of thread. 

     Harry marveled at the simplicity of the room with its contents, and the simplicity of the contents themselves. It belonged to a quaint era of long ago. The sense of timelessness about it touched a chord of surrealism Harry could only associate with some of the wizarding world that continued to remain unchanged in its own being even after hundreds of years of advancement by the Muggle world. 

     She jumped when a matronly-looking woman, wearing a drab brown dress with a full skirt and a high collar of white lace, detached herself from the shadows. The woman's skirt rustled as she drew close to Cousin Quigley and addressed him with a respectful nod and a tiny smile. "May I help you, sir? Madam?" She nodded her head at Harry. Her smile disappeared as her eyebrows raised in clear surprise at Harry's robes. 

     Cousin Quigley was all business as he nodded his head and looked pointedly around. "Yes," he said. "I spoke with your assistant earlier, who informed me you were a remarkable seamstress." He gestured, palm wide, to Harry. "My cousin here is from the old country. She will be staying with me for an as-of-yet indeterminable time. As you can see, her," he paused, "dress is rather odd for hereabouts, and I would like her to appear more acceptable to the locals." 

     Harry awkwardly shuffled her feet when Cousin Quigley finished speaking. Her feeling of displacement worsened when the woman he spoke to pinched her lips together in a manner that reminded Harry of McGonagall. The woman eyed Harry's figure with no small amount of disapproval. 

     "How soon would you like it to be finished? I have a sewing machine--it's very new, but it will hasten the job rather quickly." 

     "As soon as possible if you will." 

     The woman nodded. "Very well. Come with me," she said to Harry as she nodded her head over to a curtain-covered doorway. "We'll take your measurements for a simple dress." Harry trailed behind her reluctantly. She looked over her shoulder at Cousin Quigley, who had turned to a table covered with various bolts of cloth and was sifting through them. 

     The first thing the woman had Harry do was strip behind a large screen. At the sight of Harry clad only in a pair of bra and panties picked out by Pinky, the woman squawked in surprise, and then immediately berated Harry on her immoral underwear. Harry's face burned with red as she crossed her arms before herself, but knew she would be unable to explain how a house elf had picked out the clothing. 

     The woman bustled about in the room and finally came up with a pair of lacy trousers and an upper lace-up tube that looked like a torture device to Harry. "I have to wear those?" she asked Cousin Quigley with a hint of panic in her voice as she pointed at them. 

     The woman glared at her. "These," she said in a cold voice, "are the standard wear of women everywhere." She glanced at Cousin Quigley, as if accusing him of Harry's ignorance. He shrugged in wordless apology. "These," she gestured to the loose, lacy trousers, "are pantalets. This is a corset." She held up the lace-up tube. Harry eyed it with no small amount of trepidation. She had heard of those. You had to stuff yourself into one, suck your stomach in, and breath out so it could be tightly laced. It made your waist appear small. 

     "That's not going to help my butt," she muttered. 

     The woman blinked. "I beg your pardon?" 

     Cousin Quigley made a noise deep in his throat. It sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "This is not a place for a gentlemen like myself," he said as he turned his back to them. "I shall be waiting outside on the boardwalk for you to finish." 

     Harry eyed the lace-up tube. It was going to be another torture device, possibly invented by men again. 

     She was beginning to hate what she had once been. 

     And if it was a woman who had invented that ugly trap of fashion, then Harry was perfectly willing to hate herself for what she currently was.   
  
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     Three hours of measuring, lounging in her skivvies as she waited for her first dress to be finished, and finally cramming herself into the hastily-sewed outfit, Harry waddled uncomfortably out the door. Trying to walk while her stomach was pinched, she could not breathe deeply, and the lacings cut into the flesh of her back, Harry was in the mood to hurt something. The skirts themselves did not help in the matter of equating her mood. She wore three petticoats that caused her skirts to billow about her legs. She could not see where she was stepping, and the high-heeled lace-up boots were difficult to balance in. 

     She glared sideways at Cousin Quigley, who was seated on the boardwalk with his back pressed against the wood. He glanced nervously away. "Ahem. Well, now," he said as he struggled to his feet. "Shall we go? There are a few more questions I need to ask you." Harry said nothing as she continued to glare at him. He sighed. "Well, come along. The Mirror of Rebounds wishes to have a word with you." 

     Harry froze in mid-glare. "The mirror wants a word with me? It's just a mirror!" 

     "It's a sentient power," Cousin Quigley replied tiredly. Harry followed closely at his heel as they crossed the dirt street. They entered a building that was slightly more ornamented than the others. On the outside, its drab, weather-worn wooden exterior was identical to the others. Over the balcony that hung from the front of the building was a sign whose letters were so faded Harry could not identify what they read. They entered the building. The interior gleamed brightly from being carefully cleaned over the years. Harry followed Cousin Quigley up the creaky stairs to the first door to the left of the stairs. He paused at the door, and turned to Harry. He opened his mouth, and then stopped. 

     He silently opened the door and stepped to the side. Harry waited for him to move forward before she realized he was waiting for her to move first. She gathered her skirts about and, mindful of not tripping over her heels, she stepped into the room. It was sparse, with a creaky-looking spring mattress flopped over a slab of boards with a couple of pegs to lift it off the ground. There was a crooked dresser in the corner with a clay washbowl and jug next to it, and a white towel folded carefully over the chair next to it. 

     At the foot of the bed was a long, battered trunk. Harry felt an instant pull to it the moment her eyes lit upon it. Behind her, she heard Cousin Quigley enter the room, shut, and lock the door. He moved around Harry to the trunk. He knelt down beside it and hesitated. "Can you feel it?" he asked Harry without looking at her. "Can you feel its call?" 

     Harry had no idea what he was talking about, but she did feel an attraction to the trunk, and instantly knew Cousin Quigley had the Mirror of Rebounds stored in it. A cold wave swept up and down her spine. "Wait!" she cried as Cousin Quigley began to fiddle with the lock on the trunk. He stopped and looked at her. 

     "What is it?" 

     Harry pressed her hands against either side of her face. "I--I don't know. What're you trying to show me?" 

     Cousin Quigley sighed as he dropped his hands. He crossed his legs before himself and patted the floor beside him. "Please," he said, "do be seated." Harry, after a moment of indecision, clumsily gathered her skirts close and sat down. "I want to explain something of the Mirror of Rebounds to you. It's not a creature, but it is a sentient being. It represents the conscious aspect of the Universe. In that respect, it is stubborn, self-centered, and proud." He sighed and looked depressed. "There is little more to say of it, except no matter how much the Universe desires to live, it rarely tries to help by freely giving information, at least clearly." 

     "But why? If the Universe wants to live, then why doesn't it just directly give us all the information, rather than scramble what obtuse information it decides to give us? And how can the Universe be a conscience being that makes decisions?" 

     Cousin Quigley looked up at the plastered ceiling. "The Universe does not live, it exists." He frowned. "There have been persons who believed the Universe is the source and center of all living energy, and it's consciously aware of itself. The Universe is much more than that. I cannot fully describe it. The Universe encompasses everything, and is aware. It's not just the existence of life, but also the cycle of death, and everything that happened, and everything that happens, and the potential for everything that will or may happen. Because it encompasses everything, the Universe has a sense of understanding that far exceeds what mere mortals, such as you or I, possess. To even understand how_ vast _the Universe's understanding is too much for our comprehension. Because of this keen sense of understanding, the Universe can read well the potential of the future, and what may cause its destruction. Now think, Harry, of how infinite is the Universe with all of space and all of time." 

     Harry tried to imagine. Her mind refused to wrap around the concept of how immense the word, infinite, implied the Universe to be. Her eyes grew wide behind their glasses as another thought occurred to her. "On top of all those multiple realities too!" 

     Cousin Quigley nodded. "And the Universe is aware of every single thing that occurs within itself. It's a terribly, utter vastness that exceeds our own ability to understand." 

     Harry scratched her head. "So the Universe is God?" 

    "I could not say." 

    "If the Universe is God, then God would be able to take care of Himself. He couldn't die because He's, She's, well, It's God." 

    "Gender is a materialistic thing, Harry, and God is beyond the materialistic." 

    "Well, if the Universe is God, then the Universe can bloody well save itself, can't it?" 

    "It already has. It saved itself by creating you. After all, 'tis Voldemort who will destroy us all, and you were meant to take him down. Now, whether you actually lived through it or not does not matter to the Universe. In the great, grand scheme of things, your only importance lies in killing Voldemort. Once he is dead, you have no more use." 

     Harry stared at her feet. "Then why did Pandora say we had to find a good Tom Riddle to save the Universe?" she asked finally. "Pandora said I'd die if I killed Voldemort, and you say that I can kill Voldemort." She scratched her head again. Her scalp was beginning to tingle annoyingly. "So I could kill Voldemort, except I would die, so we need a good Tom Riddle to do it for me so I won't die." Harry felt her temper flare at the injustice of it all, and she flung her hands wide, smacking Cousin Quigley in the forehead. "That hardly makes any sense!" 

     Cousin Quigley rubbed his sore forehead. "No." 

     All of this, just to save her own life, which the _Universe _had sacrificed for _its_ own purpose. She had to go through multiple realities, face multiple transgressions against her person, was turned into a girl, and now forced to wear this breathing hazard called a corset. "And it isn't fair!" 

     Cousin Quigley agreed amiably at that. "Oh no, of course not." 

     Harry cradled her face in her hands. "Why do these things have to be so difficult?" 

     Cousin Quigley reached out and rubbed Harry's back comfortingly. "Because," he said sincerely, "we always work the hardest for that which we most desire. It gives us cause for a greater appreciation and respect for what we worked so hard. This is especially important if you actually have the choice of whether you're going to stay in one spot or actually do something." 

     "Humph. Well, that would explain why it's never clear when it does try to communicate. It always speaks in riddles or circles, and just seems to like making us guess." 

    "Perhaps that is to rouse curiosity. Tell me, Harry, if you knew half of what you were about to go through, would you do it?" 

     Harry looked down at her curved chest. "Not really," she conceded. 

     "We humans have a great weakness, and that lies in our own inherent curiosity. Once aroused, we'll do nearly anything we to make it stop--providing, of course, that we know what we are willing to go through. Essentially, the Universe set you up by tossing you a hook, and you eagerly grabbed at it only to find yourself too ensnared to release yourself." 

     Harry leaned back against the trunk. "You know the sheer irony of this? The irony is how we started out not to help me but to look for Pandora. Francis wanted her back, so we went looking for her or perhaps her mother to learn where she went. We never intended to find a good Tom Riddle, or to save the Universe." She studied Cousin Quigley's profile as he twisted his fingers. "It was you who told us to save the Universe." She sighed and drew her knees to her chest. She carefully arranged her skirts and wrapped one arm around her knees. "You once said to me you never had a choice. Is that why? Because the Mirror won't let you since it's a sentient being? How's that possible? 

     Cousin Quigley chuckled bitterly. "We don't know," he said. "All we know is Hyacinthe created the Mirror of Rebounds to store detailed records of the past. But the past is only on part of the stream of Time, and so the mirror can access the possibilities of the future. Unfortunately, he was pushed in front of galloping Roman horses and was crushed to death before he could tell anyone." 

     Harry frowned. "I thought he was pushed in front of a carriage." 

     Cousin Quigley shook his head. "They didn't have too many carriages back then," he replied. 

     "Someone said it was a carriage!" Harry felt affronted. "And I think it was you!" 

     Cousin Quigley tried to look innocent. "It couldn't have been me," he said. "I saw a blonde Malfoy push Hyacinthe in front of the horses. Well, there may have been a carriage among them, but it wasn't what killed him." 

     "Well, why did a Malfoy push him? And how did you see it?" 

     Cousin Quigley nervously pressed a finger against his lips. "Ah, well, we best leave that for another day," he said with a light blush. He turned to the trunk. "I should be able to use the mirror to learn how soon your companions shall arrive." 

     Harry watched as he undid the lock, opened the trunk, and withdrew the Mirror of Rebounds. "I have a question," she said. "What happens if two of these were to show up at once?" 

     Cousin Quigley shrugged. "Anything is possible. Perhaps nothing will happen. Perhaps reality will bend and the Universe will snap." He shrugged. "I cannot say." 

     Harry watched with uncertainty as Cousin Quigley stared at the flat surface of the Mirror of Rebounds. Something must have happened that only Cousin Quigley knew about, since the glass remained dark and solid. He sighed and placed the Mirror of Rebounds back into the trunk. "They'll not be here for exactly, oh," he took a brass pocket watch from his pocket and glanced at its ticking face, "eight days, four hours, and eighteen minutes." 

     "Oh." Harry looked at her booted feet, which peeked over her stiff skirts and petticoats. "Well, what do I do until then?" 

     Cousin Quigley shrugged. "At this point," he said mournfully, "a drink sounds good. However, I don't believe I want to enter a saloon whose occupants currently have difficulty remembering their own names now without the aid of alcohol." 

     "And what's this word that the Mirror of Rebounds wanted with me?" 

     Cousin Quigley blinked and stared wordlessly at Harry. He twisted around to face the trunk, then sighed and slumped over. "It refuses to say now," he said. 

     "Why?" 

     "Because it's sulking." 

     "It's _sulking?_ How can it do that?" 

     "Hmmm? I'm not sure. I think this is the first time this has happened to me." Cousin Quigley studied Harry. "There's something about you," he said finally. "I'm not sure what it is though. Ah well." He stood up. "I've this lovely bottle of rum hiding in my carpet bag. Would you care for a nice glass?" 

     Harry sighed. "I could use a stuff drink at the moment," she said._ Wouldn't be the first time, _she thought morosely. _I wonder if I'm turning into an alcoholic. _She decided to blame it all on Cousin Quigley's bad influence. 


	25. Chapter 25

     Harry spent the next eight days, fours hours, and eighteen minutes dodging men. 

     News of a single and apparently good-looking woman (Harry didn't think she was exceptionally pretty, let alone beautiful) staying with her cousin spread through the area like wildfire. With women scarce in the West and this area being particularly female-deprived, men flocked to see Harry. Almost all of those who toted guns-be they handguns, rifles, or shotguns--opted to ignore Harry' protests. Aside from being a single woman, she was, well, a woman. She was supposed to look pretty, cook, and bear children. 

     Harry wanted to scream and transfigure the men into the toads they were. She tried to tell them there was a young man who was very interested in her, she sort of _maybe_ liked him, and if he ever learned of what was going on, he was going to be unhappy. When the men waved the idea away, Harry contemplated siccing Draco on them. 

    _ He_ certainly would not mind turning the men into toads. 

     With six hours and thirty-one minutes remaining before her companions arrived, Cousin Quigley and Harry went horse-shopping. Harry didn't see why they needed horses until Cousin Quigley said there wasn't much of a chance the others would land in town as she had. Likely or not, they would wind up in the desert beyond the town, which was dry and miserable as deserts tended to be. Since Severus was a ghost, they did not include him in the necessary headcount. When the rancher who was selling the horses asked Cousin Quigley what he needed the horses for, Cousin Quigley sighed and cast Obliverate on the man, leaving him puzzled at why he had money for six horses, which were currently missing from their corrals. 

     "Was that really necessary?" Harry asked as she bounced awkwardly on the horse. She had thought it was no harder riding a broom than a horse, but a horse was gangly, difficult to balance on when she wanted to move one way and it insisted on going the other, and there was something nerve-wracking about a ton of temperamental horse flesh between her legs. Her skirts billowed stiffly at either side of her. She would have tried riding side-saddle, except the first time she did it she fell off the horse, and that had been the end of that. She jealously watched how Cousin Quigley easily rode, moving up and down with the horse's gait and his hips swaying with the forward movement. The reins loosely clasped in one hand as the other hand grasped the lead rope tied to his saddle's horn. Trailing from the lead rope were four other horses. 

     As this was the first time riding a horse, Harry thought she was doing rather well, although she probably could do much better. She bounced heavily in the saddle with the horse's choppy trot, and tried to control its head. The horse did not care for its rider. It tossed its head, pulled against the bit, danced around, and swatted Harry with its tail. 

    "Of course it was necessary," Cousin Quigley replied. "Once your companions arrive, you may have to leave quite soon. As I intend to stay here for a little more time, I do not wish to be pestered by curious people. Furthermore, I do not believe I actually would have cared to explain the calming charm I had to cast on the horses." 

     Well, there had been that as well. When Harry had tried approaching the little roan she now rode, it had tried to kill her. It was bad enough she was trying to save her life from being killed either indirectly or directly by Voldemort, but insult was being added to injury when a horse decides to trample her to death. 

     "How soon are the others to arrive?" 

     "Any time now." 

     Harry sighed. She squeaked as the horse gave a little jump and nearly unseated her in the process. She wrapped the reigns around the saddle horn and clung desperately to it. 

     "Amazing!" Cousin Quigley looked over his shoulder at the roan. "A calming charm does nothing to dampen that horse's spirit!" 

     "Yes." Harry gritted her teeth together. "Simply amazing." Her grip on the saddle horn tightened. Cousin Quigley gave no notice to Harry's discomfort as he scanned the dry countryside. When he spoke of deserts, Harry had imagined sweeping dunes of golden sand. Instead, she got compact, cracked ground that sagebrush and cacti clung to. Every now and then, a lizard would skitter across the ground, disturbed somehow by her passing. 

     Harry rubbed the sweat away from her brow with the back of her hand. She sighed and shifted in her saddle. Her butt was numb from the constant bumping up and down. Damn these creatures for being so ungraceful. What she would give for her Firebolt. "How much longer?" she called to Cousin Quigley. He peered up at the cloudless sky. 

     "They arrived already," he said. "They're over the butte there." He nodded his head at one of the many flat-topped hills. 

     Harry frowned. She hadn't felt anyone come. "Are you sure they're here?" 

     "Yes." 

     "When did this happen?" 

     "When you caught your dress in the cactus." 

     Harry glanced at her dress' hem, which was shredded from being snagged by the long spines on the cactus' limb. "Oh." She had barely got away with her skin intact, but the horse seemed highly amused over it all. She had considered kicking its sides a little harder than necessary, and then decided she would much rather remain seated. 

     They rode to whatever butte Cousin Quigley had referred to. Harry drank the stale water in her canteen and contemplated her life in general as they rode along in the hot sun. Her hair was sticky beneath the heavy bonnet Cousin Quigley made her wear. Her glasses fogged from the combination of sweat from the bridge of her nose and the day's heat. 

     "How much longer do we have?" she asked. 

     "Just a little more," Cousin Quigley replied. Harry sighed and drooped tiredly over her horse's neck. 

     An explosion of green, shooting up in the air like a pillar of light, sent Harry's horse in a crazed panic. It reared up with a frantic scream as pain lanced through Harry's head. Harry, too surprise to make a grab at her saddle horn, fell backward and landed on the hard ground. She tried to jump to her feet and scramble out of the horse's way, but her feet tangled with her skirts and she fell over again. Her surroundings blurred from the fierce pain in her forehead. The lead line of horses ripped free of Cousin Quigley's hand. He pulled his horse's reigns tight and grabbed the saddle horn as his horse bucked beneath him. 

     The ground beneath Harry's fingertips vibrated slightly from the immense explosion of power. She tried to scramble to her feet again just as her rearing horse brought his two front hooves down. Harry jumped backwards. The horse's hoof grazed down the front, tearing away the front of her dress. She was pulled down, but the horse leapt away and galloped across the countryside, following the string of lead horses. 

     The pillar of green power disappeared. The pain in her scar receded as she tried to pull together the front of her dress. Her petticoats were also torn, but her pantalets and corset were still intact. Harry realized what she was doing was futile. She just shrugged out of her dress and petticoats. Cousin Quigley eyed her figure. 

     "You'll get burned by the hot sun," he said as Harry pulled her wand free of her dress' pocket. She tucked it down the front of her corset. 

     "So I'll transfigure a bush into sun screen." Harry pointed at the butte. "What was that?" 

     "That was one of yours, I believe." 

     Harry scratched her head. "Probably Tom Riddle," she said. "But why was he using so much power?" 

     Cousin Quigley shrugged. "Get on." He guided his horse over to Harry's side and extended an open hand to her. She took it and he pulled her up. Harry plopped down behind the saddle and wrapped an arm around Cousin Quigley's round waist. "We'll go see what that was about." He kicked his horse and they cantered toward the direction.   
  
===========================  
  


     "Master?" Pinky, hugging a lopsided, slightly-ragged blue bunny close to her side, was crying as she wandered the halls of Dinsmore. Fat tears rolled down her face and dripped off her pointy nose and pointy chin. "You leeeeft Pinky! Master!" Pinky buried her face between the bunny's two floppy ears and sobbed. Her master was gone. He had somehow left, but in Pinky's mind, that translated as abandonment. What was she to do? Master never left home without telling her, and he usually took her along. 

     Only Pinky knew how Master liked his covers turned down at night. Only Pinky knew how he liked his meats cooked, and his teas made, and what sort of desserts went with what wines at what time of the day. Only Pinky could make his towels nice and fluffy and then hang them just right next to the bathtub. Master couldn't take care of himself without Pinky! What was going to happen to him? 

     Pinky wailed again in anguish. She wiped her runny nose on one of the bunny's ears. Woe was Pinky! What was she to do when her Master was gone? What if he were sick? No one knew the little songs that Pinky could sing to make him better. Oh, Woe was Pinky! 

     After several more minutes of wailing, Pinky wandered into her Master's bedroom. She climbed onto the big poster bed and curled up on one of the down-filled pillows. Her ears drooped depressingly as she hugged the bunny close. She used to sleep here with Mistress and Master when she was little, because Mistress thought that Pinky was too small to stay in the little cupboard. After Mistress was gone, Master learned Pinky was scared of the dark. Master was so kind to Pinky; he captured jars of fireflies and would keep them in the hall and in Pinky's little cupboard so she wouldn't be scared. 

     Pinky gasped and sat upright. Did Master leave like Mistress did? Was Pinky never to see her Master again? She burst into a fresh bout of tears. 

     "Pinky?" Pinky stopped crying as she eagerly jumped to her feet and looked around. 

     "Master?" A ghost stood in the doorway. He had blue eyes and wild black hair. He was lean and of average height, and there was a sense of familiarity about him. "You're not Master." The ghost shook his head as he crossed the room over to Pinky's side. 

     "No, I'm not." 

     Pinky studied him. He wore a white vest over a dark shirt, and his feet were faded out. "Who are you?" 

     "My name is James. I'm here to take you to your Master." James stooped and picked Pinky up. She shivered at his cold contact and hugged her blue bunny closer. "He needs you." 

     Pinky gasped. "Master does? I knews it!" 

     James nodded absently to himself. "Hold on tight, it's going to be a rough journey." And then he Jumped between the realities.   
  
=========================  
  


     The first thing Severus was aware of was how his face was currently planted firmly in the ground, and it smelled sort of odd. He grunted softly as he moved his hands beneath him and shoved himself upright. In the line of his vision was a pair of shiny shoes, of which the hem of deep green robes brushed the tops. Severus looked up to see Tom Riddle looking down on him, waiting for a reaction. 

     Severus sat upright and looked around. The others stared at him, also waiting for his reaction. He ran his hand over the ground, noting how solid and warm it was. He glared at Riddle. "What did you do?" He stopped at the squeak in his voice. He grabbed his throat. "My voice broke!" It squeaked again. Riddle looked highly amused, much to Severus' immense irritation. "You brought me back to my teenaged years, didn't you?" 

     Riddle shrugged and turned his back on Severus. "I gave you back a little bit of life." Severus stared after Riddle as he walked to the shade of the bluff. Next to Francis, Riddle sat down. Severus squinted. It might have been his imagination, but he thought there was a touch more silver than usual in Riddle's otherwise black hair. 

     Not too far away, Draco coughed in to his fist. "Doing that was fairly noticeable," he said. "How far are the closest people? Been a long while since I had to perform any memory charms." 

     Harry2 pointed over the butte. "We've got a couple of them coming, but I can handle them if they're dangerous." 

     Francis jumped to his feet. "Do you suppose one of them's Harry?" 

     Harry2 jogged over to the bluff. "I dunno. Let me check." He climbed the butte's steep side and peered over across the distance. He shielded his eyes against the sun and waved. "I think it's her," he said. "I'm not sure. The heat's making everything blur." A woman's voice, the words indistinguishable, called across the distance. Harry cupped his hands around his mouth. "_What did you say?_" He listened to the sound, again indistinguishable. "_What_?" 

     "Oh come down from there," Draco called up at Harry2. "When they get here, they get here, and then we can hear what they meant to say." Harry2 shrugged. He slid down the butte's side and sat down beside Riddle, who absently stared off across the distance. 

     "So then what do we do?" 

     "We wait," Draco said knowingly. 

     Severus ignored them. He touched his hands and face, marveling at how much had been lost and then regained. He felt thirsty and hungry, but those meant he was alive. He stood up and walked, with some difficulty, over to Riddle. It might take a while for him to get used to legs again, when he had chosen instead to glide and fly rather than walk as a ghost. "What's the catch?" he asked Riddle. 

     Riddle glanced at Severus, and then went back to studying what only he could see in the distance. "For most of nature, the sun is a primary source of life. It is now the source of life to you." 

     "What's that supposed to mean?" 

     Riddle smiled. "I wouldn't recommend coming into the shade here," he said mildly. Severus studied him. Yes, Riddle had more silver in his hair. When they first met, there was only a sprinkle in the temples. Now there were thick streaks of silver through all the black. 

     "So I no longer live if I step into the shade?" 

     "You become a ghost as you once were. A much younger looking ghost," Riddle added as an afterthought. "But as long as you stay in the sunlight, you can live and age like a normal human being." 

     Harry2 raked his eyes over Severus' figure. "As normal as anyone like you could be," he said out loud. Severus glared at him and Harry2 winced. "I meant that in a good way," he hastened to add. 

     A figure topped over the butte "Hey!" Harry waved from where she sat behind Cousin Quigley. The horse carefully picked its way down the butte to where the others were. Harry slid from the back of the horse to the ground and smiled brightly at the others. "Boy, it's good to see you guys." Her cheerfulness wilted into an annoyed anger. "Except I've got some complaints on the magic being used around here. What was the beam of green power?" She absently touched her scar. 

     "That," said Riddle cheerfully, "was Severus Snape receiving back a little bit of his humanity." He grinned at Severus, who glared back. Harry's eyes widened. 

     "You look solid," she said with a hint of awe. There was a long pause as she studied Severus. "And a little young." She nervously looked at the others. 

     Severus pointed at her pantalets. "What's your explanation for that?" he asked, his voice breaking twice. Harry's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "Aside from dressing with what appears to be the times, I see that you are running around in your underwear. Usually you keep your drawers hidden under proper clothing." 

     Draco grinned from where he was sitting. He stood up and walked over to Harry, raking his eyes over her appreciatively. He stopped at her side and whistled. "I like it! I like it!" 

     Harry2 tossed a rock at Draco. It bounced off his head. Draco glared at Harry2 as he rubbed the spot behind his ear the rock had struck. "What was that for?" 

     "My mom," said Harry2 with a tone of voice that could only be described as "wise," "once told me that women preferred respect. 'Specially from the 'bad boys.' Mom said that it was flattering to know a tall, dark, and sexy stranger would single her out personally and give her respect, attention, and compliments. Not, I think, that anyone like that has ever tried to flatter Mom, but still." He took a deep breath. "The point I'm trying to make is you aren't being very respectful." 

     "I thought I was being very respectful. I just said I liked it. What would you have done if I said she looked absolutely ravishing?" 

     As Draco and Harry2 argued, Cousin Quigley dismounted from his house and stood beside Francis, who shaded his eyes against the sun and looked up at him. "I do not know any of you," Cousin Quigley said hastily. "At the moment, you are all in the past, and I would prefer to keep our interaction as minimal as possible lest we change the future." 

     Severus sneered. "Suits us just fine," he muttered darkly. Cousin Quigley glanced at Severus as if noticing him for the first time, and then turned back to Francis. A fraction of a second passed before he whipped around and stared in open-mouthed surprise at Severus. "Yes,_ Father_?" Severus asked mildly with a raised eyebrow. 

     Cousin Quigley opened and closed his mouth several times as he tried to say something but couldn't. His eyes teared up as he continued to gaze at Severus. He finally turned away and stared at a nearby sagebrush. "You look like someone who was very dear to me. She . . ." His voice trailed off, and he snuffled and scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. 

    "She what?" Severus stood up. "This wouldn't happen to be my mother, would it?" 

    Despite the depression clear on his face and in his eyes, Cousin Quigley managed to smile. "My White Rabbit," he murmured. "You seem so much like her. She was a sweet little thing--" A white figure materialized behind him. 

     "Actually," said the Bloody Baron knowingly as he rubbed his chin, "she wasn't little. She was about a good four inches taller than you." 

     Cousin Quigley squeaked at the sight of the Bloody Baron and cowered behind Francis. " 'm not drinking anything!" 

     A different Cousin Quigley, a little older-looking and only slightly leaner than his other self, popped up beside the Bloody Baron. "But I'm short to begin with," he said with a hint of whine in his voice as he twisted the hem of his shirt. The Bloody Baron grinned at both Cousin Quigleys. 

     "And she wasn't all that nice either," said the Bloody Baron. "There was a time when a distant Malfoy cousin was rather loud and obnoxious about her being a Muggle-born inferior for a human being. After a couple days, poor Horace was dead, and his scalp was missing under the most suspicious circumstances--as well as the sharpest knife in the house." 

    The Cousin Quigley Harry had met in the saloon looked ready to burst into tears. "My sweet gentle wife did what?" he asked in disbelief. 

     The Bloody Baron looked at Severus. "Although you are right in one retrospect: Young Dominic here is much like his mother." 

     Severus crossed his arms before himself. "I," he said indignantly, "have never scalped anyone." 

     "Given your personality," Draco said, "I bet you would do it though." 

     Severus conspicuously said nothing. 

     The Cousin Quigley who showed up with the Bloody Baron smiled at no one in particular. "This is all going according to plan," he said brightly. 

     Francis frowned. "I don't think I like the sound of that." 

     "Oh, no, no, no." Cousin Quigley wrung his hands and shook his head. "It's not that you think. This is how I remember it in the past. You all had to be pulled back here like this so I could just send you into the future rather than force you through any more realities." 

     "Is that what happened to Harry?" Francis asked. 

     Cousin Quigley suddenly looked guilty. "Er, actually, I have no idea how that happened." The others glared at him and he pulled at his collar, as if becoming hot. "But it all worked out in the end, you see, so we shouldn't worry." He smiled expectedly, but his good cheer wilted at the others' clear displeasure. 

     Francis stood up and brushed sand and dirt from the back of his robes. "Would you mind being clear on this?" he asked impatiently as he walked over to stand before Cousin Quigley. "The Mirror of Rebounds tends to act odd all the time; are you trying to say that you are responsible for what it's done, or does it act odd and tend to ruin your carefully construed plans?" 

     "Um. Yes?" 

     Francis fiddled with his goggles. "Yes, what?" 

     Cousin Quigley pressed one uncertain hand against his mouth and gazed at Francis in confusion. "Well, sometimes I can get it to do what I'd like, sometimes the Universe gets its own idea about what should happen next, and every time that happens I have to rethink my position. But since Universe saw fit that Harry should be yanked into the past of that current reality, I had to go get her, and then it pulled all of you into the past of your reality, so I brought her along, except our pathways crossed and the repercussions of that was enough to literally wake up certain dead persons, so I had to pull Harry further into the past than I could. But I remember this all happening now, because this is the past and I'm from the future, and I clearly remember myself explaining all of this to everyone." He smiled again. "So it all turned out well." 

     "I'm getting a headache," Harry2 complained. 

     "But don't worry," Cousin Quigley pulled the Mirror of Rebounds out of nowhere and set it down on the ground. Pandora's Box materialized beside it. "We are all ready to go now. The Universe is cooperating, so I can send you all into the future. You'll arrive in the infirmary at Hogwarts only a few minutes behind your original departure." 

     Francis looked expectedly at the others. "That sounds too easy," he said. Draco and Harry nodded their heads in agreement. 

     Harry2 walked over to stand beside Cousin Quigley. "At the point, I just want to get everything over with. I'll even be glad to see Aunt Patches!" There was a long pause as the others looked at him and he reconsidered his words. "Actually, I won't be glad to see Aunt Patches." 

     Riddle eyed Pandora's Box with no small amount of trepidation. 

     "Come close." Cousin Quigley gestured the others near. The other Cousin Quigley looked lost. "You stay there, I'll talk to you in a moment." Harry, Harry2, and Draco were reluctant, but they did walk over to stand beside Francis. Severus and Riddle remained where they were. Cousin Quigley sighed. "You're all going to be difficult now, aren't you?" 

     Riddle pointed one slim finger at Pandora's Box. "I _hate _that thing." 

     Harry scratched her head. "It's not that--" She stopped and whacked Draco's arm. "Get your hand off my bum!" 

     Harry2 whipped around and grabbed Draco around the neck. "Get your hands off her bum!" 

     Draco's two hands shot up in the air in a surrendering motion. "I didn't do nothing!" 

     "Then whose . . ." Harry reached behind herself and screamed. She threw something into the air above her head and sprinted forward, waving her hands and screaming frantically. Nagini's green hand, severed just above the wrist, flew after her. Draco and Harry2 ducked as it hurtled past their heads. A dark blur followed after the hand. 

     " 'scuse me!" Marcia bounced off Severus' head and barreled past Draco and Harry2, her sword flashing in the sunlight as she swung wildly at the hand. 

     "Mom!" Harry2 stumbled and tried to regain his balance. Harry tried to jump past Pandora's Box, but her foot caught the edge of it and sent it spinning across the ground. It hit a small rock and fell over, opening up as it did. The usual green and blue lights exploded from it and the Mirror of Rebounds shook as the mirror titillated about on its hinges. It sucked Francis into itself, who was scratching his head and trying to make sense of the confusion that was taking place. Draco followed soon after, and then Harry2, and finally Severus. 

     Riddle gritted his teeth and clamped his hands over his eyes. "Oh, fuck!" he muttered bitterly just as he was sucked into the Mirror of Rebounds as well. Harry rolled to the side as Nagini's hand fell upon her again. Marcia yanked it off, threw it on the ground and pinned it with a foot. It squirmed as she hacked it into many tiny pieces. Harry managed to squint and suck in a deep breath to scream before the Mirror of Rebounds sucked her up. Pandora's Box dematerialized, and the Mirror of Rebounds disappeared. 

     Marcia looked up from the pile of fleshy scraps. She blinked in surprise at the glare Cousin Quigley was giving her. "Uh oh." 

     "That wasn't supposed to happen!" 

     Marcia looked down what was left of the hand. A single finger had escaped the damage, and it was twitching. She hacked that into several pieces. "What wasn't supposed to happen?" 

     "You aren't supposed to be here!" 

     Marcia looked offended as she cleaned her sword with a sleeve. "While I realize that I don't exist--" 

     "They were supposed to go right to their proper time. You weren't supposed to show up. You just sent them off into a different reality. Now I've got two different memories of time going on here, and I don't know how this just messed things up. You had your own purpose. This wasn't supposed to happen." 

     Marcia's face fell. "Well, I didn't mean to." She shuffled her feet guiltily. "Accidents happen, though, so it really can't be _all_ my fault." 

     Cousin Quigley sighed. His anger melted away until he was just a tired, little man. "I know. Now I have to find out where they are and go get them." 

     Marcia brightened. "I can do that! I can find my Harry anywhere, and I'll just go to him." 

     Cousin Quigley shook his head. "No, I--wait." He studied Marcia for a long moment. "You do that," he said finally. "We may still be able to get some use out of you yet." 

     Marcia cheered at the idea of being useful after messing up something she was completely ignorant of (she didn't know what he was talking about, but that was fine because there were a lot of things she didn't know about). "I'll go right now!" She disappeared as she made her own Jump. The Bloody Baron looked at Cousin Quigley. "Correct me if I be wrong, but that was supposed to happen. Wasn't it?" 

     Cousin Quigley stared off into the distance. "Some people just need a little motivation in the right direction," he said absently. He frowned. "I seem to remember you saying something of Francis and the others being chased by heathen Indians." 

     The Bloody Baron looked innocent. "Did I? Now why would I say something that isn't true?"   
  
======================  
  


     Everyone was slightly dazed when they finally landed from their Jump, but the first thing Riddle did was roll from his back to his stomach and vomit a mouthful of sticky blood on the Hogwarts floor. Harry, feeling an overwhelming urge to help Riddle, hurried over to his side. "What's wrong?" she asked as she gently grabbed his shoulders and helped him to his knees. Riddle said nothing as he cupped his hands and vomited more blood. 

     "Internal bleeding somewhere in the intestines," Francis said grimly as he strode over to Riddle's side. "We'll have to get you to the hospital wing as soon as possible." He glanced at Harry2 and Draco. "No one is to touch the Mirror of Rebounds or Pandora's Box." As one, Harry2 and Draco twisted about to peer at the two mentioned items, which sat side by side several feet from where the reality jumpers stood. 

     "I think that shouldn't be a problem," Draco said. Harry2 nodded in agreement. 

     Harry rubbed Riddle's back with one hand. It felt like the right thing to do. "Why does it do this to him?" she asked Francis. "How can something make someone sick enough to puke blood?" 

     "I don't know, Harry. All I do know is we may be here for a while. Riddle has been Jumping almost continuously and it's taking a hard toll on him. And then he gave Severus some life, and we have no idea how much_ that_ cost him." Francis looked at Severus, who was currently a teenaged ghost because of there being no sunshine for him to exist in. "We're going to have to stay here so long as it takes for him to mend. We can't kill him before we finally get back home." 

     Severus snorted. "It would be detrimental to our goals, which are still rather vague. We really weren't supposed to find and fetch a good Tom Riddle in the first place. We were supposed to find Pandora." 

     Francis' face fell. "I know," he said softly. "I know." 

     "And just what," said Harry in a high-pitched voice, tinged with panic, "was that thing that grabbed my bum?" 

     "That," said Draco, "was Nagini's hand. At least I think it was Nagini's hand. It looked like it." 

     Harry had felt violated when she was kidnapped by the woman, but to have the woman's disembodied hand grab her bum . . . She felt like crying and tried to hide it, but Draco reached out and pulled her close in a gentle hug. He held it for only a moment when he noticed the glare Harry2 gave him. He grinned and stuck his tongue out at Harry2 when he released Harry. "How did Nagini's hand get here?" 

     Harry2 shrugged. "It followed us or it followed Mom." 

     "But I thought Nagini was dead!" 

     "Nagini is too odd for anyone to think they can be rid of her." 

     After a moment of awkward silence, Francis stood up and gently helped Riddle to his feet. Riddle leaned heavily against Francis; the blood he vomited dripped between his fingers onto the floor. "Now, which direction?" 

     Draco pointed to his left. "That way," he said. "I recognize these dungeons from my school days. The other direction leads to some storage rooms where the Slytherins used to go for some privacy in their more, ah," he grinned suddenly, "procreational pastimes." 

     Francis ignored that. "Let's go," he said. Harry hurried over to Riddle's other side and wrapped her arms around his waist so Francis did not have to do most of the work of carrying Riddle. Draco scrambled to his feet and led the way. He disappeared around the corner, and then backwheeled around it. 

     "Stop!" He plastered himself against the wall and took a deep breath. The others froze and watched him carefully peer around the corner before jerking himself away from the corner. "It's _him,_" he whispered loudly. 

     Harry2 tensed and shifted his weight evenly on the balls of his feet. "Which him?" 

     "Do any of you remember the Harry Potter who became an Auror and then was talked into teaching Defense Against Dark Arts?" 

     The others shuddered. They remembered all too well about it being one of the later realities where they had to escape with their very lives. It was one of the few no one knew about Harry's sexuality, since they had been too busy trying to dodge the various deadly charms and curses that had been aimed at them. 

     "He's there." Draco jabbed a finger in the general direction around the corner. "Speaking to Snape about something." 

     Francis fiddled with his goggles. "What are we going to do?" he asked. "We can't Jump, so we have to make amends." He riffled through his pockets until he found the letter Dumbledore had written him. "This needs to be given to Dumbledore. Once he knows who we are, we can stay here for a couple of days and Tom can rest." 

     Draco shook his head. "Remember, this hallway leads to a dead end in the dungeons. It only goes up and out the way past those two. I wonder why they're even so far out of the way down here, but knowing Harry as I do we might not want to know why they're here. We can't send Professor Snape because he looks like a teenager and no one is going to believe it's him. There are only two people Professor Snape--this reality's Snape--and Harry wouldn't recognize, and that's Francis and Riddle. Unfortunately, Professor Snape saw Francis so he's out of the question, and I'm not sure Riddle is up carrying a message to Dumbledore." 

     "I'll take it," Harry said. 

     "No," Draco firmly replied. 

     "Why?" 

     Draco pointed at Harry, although it was directly at her chest. "You're a girl." 

     Harry stomped her foot and sputtered angrily. "That's so sexist!" 

     "Harry." Francis reached out and touched her bare arm. "You're dressed in underwear that my grandmother used to wear, and we still don't know how we're going to get you past Snape and yourself without them noticing you." 

     Draco grinned suddenly. "We can take care of the underwear." He pulled out his wand and twirled it. "I'm a fair hand at transfiguration if I do say so myself." 

     Harry pointed at the wand. "If you so much as point that thing in my direction I'm going to snap it in half and then shove it up unmentionable places. No one is going to transfigure my clothes while I'm still wearing them, and I'm not going to undress so you can, either." 

     Draco blinked in surprise. "You're testy today." He squinted at her. "You wouldn't happen to be on the rag, would you?" 

     Harry decided to ignore that. Riddle attracted her attention by vomiting again. She went back to rubbing his back. "What do we do?" she asked no one in particular. 

     "What we need," said Harry2 knowingly, "is a distraction. We need something that doesn't look dangerous, but is relatively interesting or at least odd enough to attract and maintain attention. That should be enough to get Harry past Harry and Professor Snape." 

     Draco sighed and let his arms drop at his side. He did not tuck his wand away. "Where are we going to get that?" 

     "Harry!" Marcia popped into existence at Harry2's side, and he immediately clapped his hand over her mouth. 

     "Shshshsh." He nodded his head at the corner. Marcia's eyes were wide with surprise, but she nodded her head to show she understood. Harry dropped his hand and smiled broadly at Marcia. "Mom, we were just talking about you!" Marcia looked from face to face. She frowned suspiciously. 

     "Why?" she asked darkly. 

     Harry2 placed a hand on her shoulder and steered her to the hallway corner. "We need you to cause a distraction," he said. "There are two people in the hallway down yonder who're blocking our way. We need to get Tom Riddle to the hospital wing for help, but we can't do it because these two people think we're dangerous. The last time we were here they nearly killed us 'cause they think we're spies for Voldemort or something. Harry has to get past them so she can speak to Dumbledore." 

     Marcia looked uncertain. "And you want me to cause a distraction? What sort of distraction?" 

     "Oh, I don't care. Anything short of maiming or killing will do." Harry2 shoved Marcia past the corner. Harry heard retreating footsteps. Draco and Harry2 peered around the corner of the hallway. Figuring that if they could watch then she could watch, Harry squeezed between them and peered around the corner. 

     Marcia silently made her way over to Harry and Professor Snape. Both stopped talking and stared at her with suspicion when they noticed her. She stopped at an angle from them, which caused their gazes to be away from the corner of the hall and settle on her instead. She looked like a little girl who was lost, one finger timidly pressed to her lip as she turned her chin up and shuffled her feet. 

     "Who," said Snape after a long moment, "are you?" 

     Marcia scratched her head and finally shrugged. With a sudden and extravagant flourish of her hands, she jumped from one foot to the other and cried, "Who are you?" 

     Potter pulled his wand out without saying a word and pointed it at her. Marcia squeaked and ducked, covering her head with her hands. Potter hesitated, looking confused at such a sign of vulnerability. "And who," said Marcia in a quivering voice, "am I?" She slowly dropped her arms at her sides. "Who are all of us?" Snape opened his mouth to say something, but Marcia, her voice rising in a crescendo, cut him off, "We are but lost children, are we not? Or are we children? How long does one stay a child before one is not a child? Is it all the definition of society? Society defines who we are and what children are. Society is nothing more than a dictator, cruel and harmful in its whimsical ways. It is a leech, made up of thousands of sheep, ready to jump off a cliff. Wooo. Splat! Like that. Our whimsical ways go with whatever direction the wind is blowing, to and fro, like willows. Blowing in the summer breeze, squirrels playing and birds singing, perhaps in a city where the pollution masks the scent of the trees' leaves." 

    Harry2 pulled his head back from around the corner. "This is it," he said grimly. "I know Mom; she's going to be babbling for quite some time." He looked at Harry, and then turned to Francis. "Does anyone know a simple charm that will make Harry a little less noticeable?" 

     Draco waved his hand. "I know just the thing!" He whipped his wand out and pointed it at Harry. "This won't last long; possibly two minutes. It will muffle the sounds of your movement and makes you blend in to your surroundings like a chameleon. We used to use it all the time when sneaking across enemy lines." He waited a moment to see how Harry would react. For her part, Harry didn't feel up to wandering Hogwarts by herself, dressed only in underwear that was now more than a hundred years old. But if no one could see her (well, at least not easily), then she wouldn't have to feel so awkward. 

     "Only for two minutes?" she asked, unable to keep the disappointed note out of her voice. 

     Draco did not seem to notice. "It takes a lot of power to maintain the charm longer than that, and the concentration needed was always too easy to lose. Don't worry; it'll be enough to get past Harry and Professor Snape over there." 

     Harry nodded reluctantly. Francis passed her the roll of parchment explaining their predicament, and then helped Riddle settle down on the floor, his back pressed against the wall. Harry squeezed her eyes shut as Draco pointed his wand at her. He muttered Latin words too softly for her to distinguish. A cool feeling spread across her body, beginning from her fingertips to the back of her head and the bottom of her heels. After a moment, Draco said, "All right. Make way, Harry, before you run out of time." 

     Harry opened her eyes to see Harry2 leaning around the corner and watching his mother again. Draco was studying her with a mixture of loss and awe. Francis was gently wiping the corners of Riddle's mouth with his sleeve. Harry spun about on her heel and peeked around the corner. Marcia still held this reality's Harry Potter and Professor Snape's attention, if only because it was not often when a hyperactive crow demon pops out of the stonework and regales nonsense upon Hogwarts Professors. 

     ". . . spiraling down the long, dark tunnel of madness. But who says madness has to be dark? Madness can be in all sorts of colors, 'cause you gotta admit that mad people tend to have a lot more fun than sane people. Sane people are odd; they don't have any fun and they don't trust people who do. People who have fun, are they be considered sane? Are all fun people insane, or do the insane people have all the fun? How many times do we ask ourselves, 'You gotta be insane to like that!' At what point does fun become insanity, and how do we really define sanity?" 

     Harry glanced down at her feet as she tiptoed past Potter and Snape. Her legs and pantalets were the same color as the dull gray stone that made up this hallway. She held her breath and shuffled past the two professors as quickly as she safely could. To her own ears, her pounding heart and shuffled steps sounded loud. She remembered this Harry. He was not too much taller than what she had been when she was still a he, but there was something dark and creepy about him. His movements were not particularly graceful or calculating, but there was a sense of malicious deviousness about him that made the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. Normally, she rather liked herself; there weren't too many Harrys out there that she had a great deal of conflict with, once one looked past who most of Harry Potter's lovers were. Harry supposed that if she ever lost her sense of dignity and morality, and was desperate and lonely, she would be very much like this Harry. 

     She and this Harry had met by her and Draco coming around the corner to in search of Dumbledore. In favor of covering more ground, the group had split with Harry2 and Francis going in one direction, and Harry and Draco going in the other (with Severus coming along to help, although Harry suspected he was chaperoning Draco). They walked into Professor Potter, who, after overcoming his shock in less than three seconds, flipped a jinx at them meant to cause some minor damage. At least, that's what Draco said, but the hallway had exploded into a blazing inferno when the jinx missed them and struck the wall instead. Harry and Draco split and Professor Potter chased after Harry, throwing multiple spells meant to severely injure the victim. 

     Harry hadn't quite forgiven Professor Potter for that one, and she did not feel like repeating the incident. Her mouth was dry when she finally got around the corner. The coolness about herself was beginning to fade. She looked down at her legs. Color, different from the gray stone, was beginning to come back. She sighed and began to walk a little faster, the parchment clutched close. 

     As she walked, Harry began to notice an odd sensation with her breasts. They were sore. She was used to her shoulders being sore, but not her breasts. Pausing in a dark corner, she gently prodded her breasts and winced. They were tender and felt swollen. Harry wracked her mind and tried to think of what she could have done to have sore breasts. Perhaps they were bruised? The problem was, there was really nothing she could do at the moment, since she had to find Dumbledore, and she certainly wasn't going to tell someone like Francis . . . 

     "What are you doing?" Harry squeaked and jumped as Severus floated up through the floor. She pressed her hands over her chest and gasped for breath. 

     "You scared me! Don't do that!" 

     Severus glared at her. "As fascinating as breasts may seem to a former male like yourself, this is not the time nor the place to be playing with them." 

     Harry felt her face burn red. "I wasn't playing with my breasts!" 

     "Oh?" One ghostly eyebrow went up. "Then what are you doing in this dark corner, far from prying eyes, handling yourself in a way that may only be termed as groping?" 

     Harry made a face. "You're just jealous," she muttered. 

     Severus sneered. "Jealous? Of someone whose now a victim of swinging hormones? Well, not that you weren't in the first place, being a boy going through puberty, but a girl going through puberty is twice as bad. If my arithmetic is correct, then you, being an adolescent male who turned into an adolescent female, are about four times worse off than the average boy going through puberty." 

     Harry didn't feel up to arguing that sort of twisted logic. She sighed. "If you must know, my breasts hurt, and I don't know why." 

     The other eyebrow went up. "Really? You don't_ say_." Harry couldn't tell if Severus was being sarcastic, or just plain mean. "Surely that can't be from being too eager with your hands, now could it?" 

     "Do I look like Draco to you?" Harry felt a small bit of satisfaction at seeing Severus' mouth snap shut at that. "Come on." She waved the parchment in the air. "We have to find Dumbledore." She walked past Severus, who muttered something about certain persons who only tried to grope themselves when they thought no one was looking. "Gee, Uncle," Harry said viciously, "I never knew you to be a voyeur. What else haven't you told us about? Anything about cavorting with Remus Lupin?" She rubbed her chin as Severus gave her a withering look, which wasn't quite effective coming from a teenaged Severus who had yet to grow into his nose than from a middle-aged professor. "Reminds me of that one reality where--" 

     "You," said Severus coldly, "have a letter to deliver." 

     Harry stuck her tongue out at Severus. "You just don't want me to continue." 

     "I want you to take that letter to Dumlbedore, even if I have to grab you by the back of your corset and carry you there myself." 

     Shuddering at the idea of being hauled through the castle by Severus, Harry continued on her way. She became lost twice and had to be redirected by Severus, who snipped sarcastically every time. When they finally emerged from the dungeons, no one was around. Harry looked around at the Great Hall, from which she and Severus had emerged from a small door in the far right corner. No one was around, so Harry sighed and turned to Severus. "Where do we go from here, o great leader?" 

     Severus straightened his shoulders. "I would suggest searching a proper wardrobe. The last thing we need is you giving Dumbledore a heart attack from seeing you wear such things before he even has a chance to even read the letter." 

     "Oh yes. Heaven forbid that we kill the Headmaster with my clothes." 

     The look on Severus face made it clear to Harry that she had just given him a good opening for a bitingly sarcastic comment. "Oh, do be quiet," she snapped. He frowned, and she turned her back to him. Without thinking, she strode down the length of the Great Hall to the doors at the very end. "We best be going," Harry said. They wandered through more halls in silence, until Harry rounded one and found herself staring at the back of Neville's head. 

     "Oh, bollocks," he was muttering. " 'Teach a class!' he says to me, 'You'll make a wonderful Herbology teacher,' he says to me. Should have known better. Now I know why Snape was always so nasty. Rotten Slytherins, the whole lot of them." 

     Harry stared in surprise. "Neville?" 

     Neville whipped around, his eyes wide in shock. "H-Harry?" His eyes became a fraction wider. "_Snape?_" 

     Harry laughed nervously. "It's not what you think," she said. Neville frowned and grabbed his wand. He tried to yank it out of his robes pocket, but he got tangled up and nearly fell over as one of his legs buckled beneath him. His face red, he pointed the wand directly at Harry. Harry squeaked and jumped backwards, her hands in the air in a surrendering motion. The last person she trusted to point a wand at her was Neville. "I can explain! I'm Harry from a different reality, originally looking for my grandmother Pandora, and instead winded up with a good Tom Riddle who is currently throwing up blood!" 

     Neville remained silent. He glanced sideways at Harry, and then at Snape. Harry, thinking that was a good sign, decided to play on it. "In my reality, Severus Snape was adopted by Pandora to be my uncle. Unfortunately, when Voldemort killed him, he decided to haunt me." 

    Severus poked Harry with a cold finger. "Unfortunate? For who?" 

     Harry jumped out of Severus' chilly reach and continued. "So he haunted me all the time, except on weekends and holidays. After some deranged set of events, I pulled my grandfather forty years into the future--he's here now, well, with Tom Riddle--and so we all went reality-jumping in search for Pandora. However, after some more events, we learned that she wanted us to find a good Tom Riddle for the Universe to survive. And we got us Draco, and another Harry--I call him Harry2--and we really need to get Tom Riddle to the hospital wing for help, because reality-jumping is very difficult for him." 

     Neville scratched his head with the tip of his wand. He looked confused and Harry could not blame him. 

     Severus' eyebrow arched. "Deranged set of events? Harry, you're babbling incoherently again." 

     Harry thrust her parchment to Neville. "Here. This does a better job at explaining than I do." 

     Neville slowly accepted the parchment without taking his eyes off Harry. "Harry," he said after a long moment, "why are you a girl and dressed in those clothes?" 

     Harry glanced down her front. Her breasts impeded her view. "It's a long story," she said with a sigh. "I don't suppose I can borrow some clothes from someone? And quickly, too, because I don't know how long the distraction against this reality's Harry Potter and Severus Snape will continue working. I'd kind of like to get this information to Professor Dumbledore as soon as possible, because Riddle was coughing up blood, and I'm worried." 

     Neville gave Harry a look that said he was worried about Harry, too.   
  
===================  
  


     Snape shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I grow weary of this," he snarled beneath his breath. 

     " . . . but who says two and two have to equal four? What if three never existed? Would that mean four was three and then two and two would equal five?" 

     Professor Potter waved Snape quiet. "Hush. I find it fascinating that someone can say so much and not really say a thing."   
  
====================  
  


     Harry had little problem convincing Neville into helping her find Dumbledore. After reading the letter, Neville was eager to show Harry to Dumbledore's office. Severus was conspicuously silent as he drifted along behind Harry. Harry felt the tension between Severus and Neville becoming larger and larger. Her mind kept drifting back to the fact that Severus was Neville's godfather. Was it the same for this reality? She didn't know, but this reality's Neville had been browbeaten and bullied by Professor Snape. They all tended to be. Harry sort of hoped there was a reality somewhere, where Neville was the bully and Professor Snape was browbeaten and bullied. At least it would be different, and then she would know Snape was not picking on Neville. 

     She also noticed that Neville was limping, one arm pressed to his thigh as he bobbed along, nearly dragging his right leg along. "Neville," she began softly, "what happened to your leg?" 

     "Oh." Neville waved Harry's concerns away. "A Shankspin plant bit me." 

     Harry did not want to know what sort of plant could have bitten someone that hard, but she felt bad about Neville being hurt, so she decided to inquire after it anyway. "How did that happen?" 

     Neville only shrugged. Harry thought she heard him mutter something about slimy Slytherins who cheerfully sabotaged their teachers with blessings from their Head. Harry cast a warning look over her shoulder at Severus. He sneered at it. 

     "Now why would they want to do that?" he muttered darkly. "Mr. Longbottom is clumsy enough to kill himself without needing anyone else's help." Neville's shoulders tensed, but he said nothing. Harry gave Severus another dirty look, hoping he would be quiet. He ignored her. "If his ability to handle plants is anything like handling potions--" 

     "Potions shmotions!" Neville whirled around to face Severus, his face red and his arms trembling. "I've had it up to here with your potions." He pointed at his eyes. "I hate them! As far as I'm concerned, I can do very well without them! Who cares what goes in first, it just ends up in the same place!" 

     Harry tried to wave Neville quiet, but he would not be quieted any more than Severus. "And another thing, professor, black is such an ugly, dreary color--it suits you! And just because my simple healing potion melted through the cauldron, the table, and the dungeon floor doesn't mean I'm going to blow up the greenhouse with a batch of fertilizer! Frankly, I always thought the only reason why you became a teacher is so you could poison students like me and get away with it. Well, I was on to it the first day! And furthermore, I always wanted to ask you if you fell into a vat of uglification potion when you were a baby! God, I hate you!" 

     Harry threw her arms up in the air and stepped back in surrender as Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously. He straightened menacingly. He did not possess his adult height, and the curls only lent an air of hilarity to him, but his black eyes were cold and cruel and drew all attention. 

     "Mr. Longbottom," Severus' voice was dangerously low and silky as he gracefully floated over to Neville, "this attitude is the exact same reason you always failed in Potions. Merlin alone knows if you are even capable of reading, which would explain some of your ability to mix ingredients together to create worthless glop." 

     "It was not worthless glop! It was some of the best fertilizer Hogwarts has ever seen!" 

     "Which, no doubt, was absolutely unintentional, you numbskull. I do wonder if you have fertilizer for brains, but that would be giving you far too much credit as you have the intelligence quotient of a _rock._" 

     Harry hurried down the hall away from the argument, deciding it would be safer to find Dumlbedore on her own. At best, Neville would have released pent-up frustration from all the way back to their first year and Severus would have some insight on how Neville felt. At worst, Severus would decide against haunting Harry and instead haunt Neville.   
  
============================  
  


     Draco covered up a yawn with the palm of his hand. "Your mother is amazing," he told Harry2 from where he was seated with his back against the wall. "And I don't mean that in a good way." 

     Harry2 shrugged. "I should probably disagree with that, except it's true." 

     Francis was seated closest to the branching hallway and could better hear what was being said than the others. "Actually," he said with a thoughtful look on his face, "if you go on this information as if it were deeply philosophical, it's actually quite interesting." He looked up as Harry2 rolled his eyes and snickered softly. "What is it?" 

     "Mom thinks philosophical is something you eat, and she said it probably wouldn't taste very good, either." 

     Francis fiddled with his goggles. "Yes. That does shine a different light on this, doesn't it?" 


	26. Chapter 26

     Harry found Dumbledore standing before the gargoyle that led to his quarters. From the way his hands were folded before himself, and the way he looked expectedly at Harry, she knew he had been waiting for her. She hesitated at the corner she had turned around, and then, with her shoulders squared, marched purposefully to him. "This is for you, sir," she said as she held out the parchment of paper. Dumbledore accepted it without looking at it. He studied Harry over his glasses solemnly for a long moment. Harry found herself fidgeting guiltily. 

     "Why are you here?" he asked. 

     Harry pointed at the parchment. "I, ah, believe that explains everything." 

     Dumbledore shook his head. "No. Why are _you _here?" 

     Harry looked into his eyes and wondered what he was trying to imply. "Ultimately, I'm suppose to save the Universe by taking Voldemort down with me. But as to why I'm _here_, that's from trying to find a way to save the Universe without my being killed in the process. I think it's getting to the point though, where living isn't worth all the trouble I'm going through." 

     Dumbledore nodded his head, a light flashing through his eyes. Harry was unsure if it was the response he was looking for. Why he had been waiting for her and why he even asked the question, she could not so much as guess at. He read the letter through once, and then, his eyes narrowed dangerously, read through again. After finishing, he slowly rolled the parchment up and handed it back. "I see." He petted his beard as he studied Harry again. "Tell me, how does it feel to be a girl?" 

     "My breasts hurt," Harry said immediately. "And men are lecherous bastards." Her face turned red when she realized what she had just said to the_ male _Headmaster. 

     Dumbledore looked surprised at what she said, the tension in the air Harry had not noticed before shattered, and then he chuckled. "Ah. No doubt we men have never thought to give women such credit." 

     Harry said nothing and hoped the color would fade from her face. Dumbledore raised his wand and pointed it at Harry. "Do you mind if I transfigure that into something a little more comfortable and, if I may be so forthright, more fashionable?" 

     Harry looked at Dumbledore's robes. They were flamingo-pink with gold trimming. "Whose idea of fashionable?" she asked. 

     Dumbledore smiled. "I believe that the Hogwarts uniform has always been fashionable." 

     "Oh. I could go with that." Harry held still while Dumbledore transfigured her linen corset and pantalets into soft black witch's robes. She took a deep breath, her chest unconstrained by the biting pinch of the corset. "I like this! Thank you, Professor!" He smiled at her exuberance, and then his cheerfulness disappeared in the graveness of earlier. 

     "Now, about your companions?" 

     "One of them's fighting with Neville." 

     Dumbledore petted his beard again. "And who would this be?" 

     "Uncle Severus. Neville's frustrations got the better of him, and I don't think Uncle Severus was in a good mood after being made alive again and then not being alive, but a teenaged ghost. So, ah, I guess I just confused you again." 

     "Perhaps." 

     "Well, he knows where we have to go back into the dungeons again to where the others are. Harry2's mother, Marcia Runes, is supposed to be distracting your Harry and Sev--er, Snape. Last I heard from her, she was talking to them about insanity or something."   
  
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     "This little girl must be insane!" 

     A stillness suddenly descended upon the entire hallway. Around the corner, Harry2 started to beat his head against the floor. 

     Marcia studied Snape with a withering look. "I beg your pardon?" Her words hung suspended in the air, cool as frost. "I am _not _a little girl." She straightened to her full height, and still was incapable of standing higher than Snape's belt. 

     He pressed one sallow hand against his chin. "Oh? You look like a little girl, you act like a little girl. If it quacks like a duck, waddles like a duck, and looks like a duck, then it must be a duck. And I most certainly do not remember you as a student here." He pointed his wand at her. "Explain yourself!" 

    Harry Potter laid a hand over Snape's wrist. "She's no danger. I don't sense anything." 

    "_Mr_. Potter," Snape said coldly, "your sense took leave of absence when you came here as a First Year student and, most unfortunately, never returned." 

     Potter glared at him. Marcia pulled her sword out of her jumper and pointed it at Snape, pricking his nose with it. Snape glared sideways at Potter as they froze. "Not dangerous, is she?" he asked out of the side of her mouth. Potter frowned and slowly shook his head. 

     "She doesn't _feel _dangerous." 

    "I won't be dangerous to you, sweety." Marcia leaned over and patted Potter's knee. " 'm from a different dimension, where you're my son. You," Marcia glared at Snape and prodded him in the nose, "are a different matter altogether. Shoulda dropped you on your head when I had the chance." 

    Potter studied Marcia closely. "You aren't dangerous," he said, shaking his head and looking confused as to why he felt this way. 

     "Very astute, Potter," Snape growled as he squinted down the length of Marcia's sword. "But blind as always." 

    "Be quiet or that nose you're so infamous for's going to meet with an unfortunate accident." 

     Potter smiled suddenly. "You wouldn't do that." 

     "MASTER!" A voice, higher-pitched than Marcia's and somewhat more annoying, rang through the hallway. Marcia jumped in surprise and nearly skewered Snape. Taking advantage of her surprise, Snape stepped out of the reach of her sword and placed himself behind Potter, trying to retain as much dignity as he could given the circumstances of running away from a little girl who stood no higher than his waist. A little elf, a wig of blonde corkscrew curls perched precariously on her head, stormed past them. "MASTER!" She rounded the corner. "Oh master! Pinky was so scared! Pinky thought you was gone forever, like Mistress!" Hopefulness was clear in the voice now that it sobbed in relief. 

     Potter rushed past Marcia, who recovered from her surprise and sprinted after him, two large leaps barely matching one of his wide strides. "Wait! 'm not supposed to let you over there!" She grabbed the trailing ends of his robes just as he whipped around the corner and stopped in surprise. Draco and Harry2 stared back from where they sat on the floor. Draco grabbed his wand, and Harry2 cupped his hands together between his knees. Pinky stood on Riddle's thighs and berated him for leaving her as he did. Riddle leaned against Francis' shoulder and gasped softly for breath, his face white. Francis watched Pinky with avid interest. 

     "You never leave Pinky alone! Pinky doesn't like being alone! Why? Mister James had to help Pinky." She stopped and stared at Riddle with concern. She reached out and touched his skin with a single finger, and gasped. "Oooh! Master is hurt!" She leapt off his lap and looked at the others. "We's must help Master!" 

     Without missing a beat, Harry2 pointed at Potter. "You'll have to speak to him. We think he's criminally insane and probably as dangerous as Snape on crack." 

     Draco's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "When have you ever seen Snape on crack?" 

     Harry2 looked pointedly at Marcia, who shuffled her feet guiltily. "Thought we'd all agreed that we wouldn't ever be discussing how the professor ever came to sexually harass your grandmother's lampshade," she said with a hint of red in her cheeks. 

     Potter looked as if he were torn between amusement and anger. "Is that possible?" he asked as he looked briefly over his shoulder. Snape was nowhere in sight. "And how is it possible that all of you," he waved his wand at Francis, Draco, and Harry2, "can be here with," his wand pointed directly at Riddle, "this _creature._" The note of danger in Potter's voice made Pinky look up. 

     "NO!" She leapt to her feet and spread her arms wide, as if to guard Riddle from danger. "You will not hurt Pinky's Master!" She stood rigidly before Potter, glaring in such a manner to dare do anything short of blinking offensively. Potter took a step back in surprise, and studied the bold little house elf. 

     Draco started to clap. Harry2 elbowed him sharply. "Well, have you ever seen a little house elf take on a full grown man like him? I sure wouldn't want to, and I'm not even a house elf!" 

     "Thank God for small miracles," Marcia said firmly. Draco glared at her, and she whipped her sword out and pointed it at him. 

     "Mom!" 

     "Know what I'm doing. You," she prodded Draco with the point of her sword, "better be nice to me on account of my son being the person you want to marry. Won't be able to do that if you make me mad. Can't marry a corpse that's buried in the deepest, darkest hole I can find in the Realm of Chaos." 

     Draco tilted his head to the side. "Would I get to meet the Lord of Chaos?" He watched in avid fascination as all color drained from Marcia's face. 

     "Um." Her eyes flickered around the hallway. "Um. I don't think that would be feasible. Right sweetie?" 

     Harry2 shrugged. "I don't know. Personally, I think that if we managed to get Voldemort to insult the Lord of Chaos, then maybe the Lord of Chaos would actually do something right and kill him for us. Then I wouldn't have to do it." 

    "Your grandfather isn't known for doing anything nice." 

    Harry2 sighed. "I guess not." 

    Francis fiddled with his goggles for a moment. He looked at Potter, but the man was studying Harry2 and Marcia with a twisted, sour expression. He looked at Tom Riddle, who still leaned against his shoulder. Pinky stood between him and Potter, her little hands curled into tight fists at her sides. "We mean no harm," Francis said before anyone could say anything more. Potter slowly turned to face him. A chill swept through Francis at the hardened expression. "I just sent my great-grandson, well, granddaughter I suppose, if one were to become very, very technical, to speak to Dumbledore." He carefully pushed Riddle away from him and stood up. "It's not all as bad as you think," he said. "I know this looks really bad, our going through here once before, and the general state of life with Voldemort on the rampant anyway." 

     Potter's expression remained cold and hard. With a sigh, Francis bent over, grabbed the hem of his robes, and hitched them up over his waist to reveal the long scar that stretched from hip to hip. "This would have killed me fifty years ago," he said as he pointed at it. "There's an interesting story behind it, and why I'm not fifty years older than what I really should be. I imagine there's enough time to relate it." He pointed at a spot on the floor as he sat back down again. "Make yourself comfortable." He looked pointedly at Draco and Harry2. "Nothing is going to happen, now is there?" 

     Harry2 shrugged. "I never try to fight on Sundays and Wednesdays. And today is Wednesday. At least I think it is." He scratched his head. "It's gotta be Wednesday somewhere." 

     "Why?" Draco asked. 

     "Why what?" 

     "Why those days? Why not Mondays and Tuesdays?" 

     "Because Sundays are church days, and Wednesdays because that's when Grandmother always brings me some of her special custard, and death and Chaos sort of curdles the taste." 

     "Mama makes a good custard," Marcia said appreciatively. " 'Cept she hasn't made any since you left. Sulks all the time and wants to know when I'm going to bring you back." 

     Harry2 brightened. "When we're all done, we can all go to Winter's Ambit and have some of Grandmother's special custard," he said. "All of us!" 

     "I dunno." Marcia glared at Draco. "She'd take your wanna-be husband less kindly than I would. Much as I dislike him, don't think anyone deserves to be turned into a block of ice, and then pushed into the Unfrozen Flob." 

     "That's because she wants me to get closer to Rosemary. Grandmother wants me to produce lots of little babies for her to cuddle, spoil, and love, now that I'm too big to do that. Well, actually she still does that, but she can't pick me up and carry me around in her arms any more." 

     "Rosemary's a sweet little thing." 

     "She's got green moss for hair, Mom, and she's also taller than me." 

     "What do you expect from someone whose half wood sprite? You took her to the Yule Ball a couple years ago, and you've grown some since." 

     "That's so Penny'd go with Ron. And besides, Dimitri said that if I didn't take Rosemary, then he'd go the Yule Ball as my partner. I didn't want him. And Rosemary's still taller than me." 

     Marcia grinned as she folded her legs beneath herself and plopped down beside Harry2. She kept her sword pointed at Draco. "Makes me miss everyone. Only Dimitri shows up now and then, but only so he and Nandin can spar. I'd like to know how Eddy's been doing." 

    "Dimitri?" Potter leaned forward, his eyes wide with interest. 

    "Do you know him?" Marcia asked. "He's a dhampire. My sister, Patches, took him on as an apprentice, and now he hunts down ghosts and demons." She frowned and stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. "And he's as bad as Patches too, what with his chasing demons into my bathroom when I'm trying to take a bath." 

     "Now, Mom, that only happened twice. He was very apologetic both times." 

    "Twice too many times! I think he did it on purpose!" 

     Harry2 scratched behind one ear and rolled his shoulders. "You're just mad because he's too young for you to ravage." 

     Marcia turned her nose up at that. "Nonsense. He's not my type, being all teeth and pale skin and whatnot." 

     Potter continued to study Marcia. He pressed his back against the opposite wall and slid down its length until he was seated, his legs crossed before him and his wand resting against his knee. It conspicuously pointed at Draco. Draco shuffled a little to the left, and the wand point followed after. He shuffled closer to the right, where Harry2 was sitting, and Marcia's sword point prickled him. 

     Draco sighed. "Caught between a rock and a hard place." 

     The sword point pricked him harder. "That was a sexual inoodoo, wasn't it?" 

     Harry2 sighed. "Innuendo, Mom. Innuendo." 

     " 'zactly what I said!"   
  
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     Harry and Dumbledore stopped in the hallway. Raging words could be heard hurtling at one another, clashing in a broad spectrum of sound and fury. 

    _ "--wouldn't know what a good potion was unless it knocked you over the head and then proceeded you molest you in the most obscene manner--" _

     "--would you know about half-way decent students when all you associate with are those Slytherins who spend more time plotting and trying to kill their Herbology teacher than study, like the malicious little inhuman bastards so much like their Head that they are--" 

     "Ah, Harry." Dumbledore put his arm around Harry's shoulder and steered her into a different direction. "I believe it would not be wise to interrupt this delicate conversation." 

     "Delicate? That 'conversation' is about as delicate as using a flame thrower put out a fire!" 

     Dumbledore said nothing more as he led Harry back to the dungeons. They silently walked through the Great Hall, still empty, and went through the door at the very end of it. "Where, exactly, in the dungeons are your friends?" he asked as he held the door open for Harry. 

     "I don't know exactly. Draco said he recognized it from his school days. It's supposed to lead to some storage rooms where the students partook in 'procreational' activities. But that was in his Hogwarts. I don't think Hogwarts is ever different, but I don't know if the rooms in this reality are used for storage." 

     "I know of just the place," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "Yes, many a time I, in my youth, would visit there to burn a little energy." He coughed discreetly into his hand. 

     "With _Slytherins_?" 

     "You must understand, Harry. I was young too, once. A long time ago." Dumbledore sighed wistfully. "She was a cute little blonde with big brown eyes." He lost himself in past reminisce. Harry was glad; she felt slightly queasy at the idea of Dumbledore being young and viral with a cute little blonde with big brown eyes. In her mind, he would always be an old man with long white hair and beard. 

     They continued the rest of the way through the dungeons in silence. They heard Francis' voice echoing down the hall a few minutes before they saw them. ". . . and after that, Harry always refused to search the men's bathroom!" There was a scattering of snickers, and a different voice spoke. 

     "I wouldn't either if I were assaulted by Snape!" 

     "Tell another! These are funny!" 

    "Mooooommm!" 

     "Oh, be quiet. You won't be able to get it up for at least another twenty years, so you're still safe." 

     "_Mooooommm!_" 

     "Oh. I'm embarrassing you now, aren't I? . . . Guess that's a yes." 

    Harry rounded the corner and saw Harry2 slumping low, his red face pressed against his knees. 

    "If it's any consolation," Marcia said with a desperate note in her voice as she rubbed Harry2's back, "you're not Nandin. He had to wait two hundred years." 

    Harry2 managed to look up from his knees long enough to glare at Marcia. She shrank away from him, her face crumpling in misery. "What did I do now?" she asked mournfully. "I didn't mean to!" She burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. Harry2 straightened up. He sighed and rolled his eyes, fidgeted guiltily as Marcia wailed her misery, and then sighed. 

    "It's okay," he said as he awkwardly patted her shoulder. "I'm not mad at you." 

     Marcia immediately stopped wailing. "Good. Now I feel better." She turned and grinned at Harry and Dumbledore. Harry2 rolled his eyes. "Back already?" she asked as she cheerfully tilted her head to the side. 

     "Ah, Harry!" Francis flashed her a smile, which looked strained and forced. "We were just discussing you." 

     Harry could guess what they were saying. She looked around herself at the others. This reality's Harry Potter sat against the wall just opposite of Francis. Both of his legs bent close, allowing easy access to a quick jump if needed. His muscles were tense beneath the thick robes he wore, and he watched Harry like a snake watched a wounded bird. Harry quickly looked away from him. Draco had both legs stretched out before himself and his back pressed against the wall. Marcia sat beside him, her sword point conspicuously pointed at his side. He did not look too uncomfortable, all things considering. Harry2 sat on the other side of Marcia, and looked as if he did not want to be where he was (or be where his mother was, which amounted to the same thing). Francis looked drained, tired and slightly depressed where he sat. Pinky was cradled in Riddle's arms, her eyes drowsy and her mouth and ears drooping slightly. 

     Harry spared Pinky a questioning thought (how did she get here?) before she descended upon Riddle. Riddle's face was ashen and his eyes were half-closed. "How're you feeling?" she asked as she grabbed his shoulder a little harder than she intended. He had enough strength to give her a dirty look. "He needs to get to the hospital wing," she said to Dumbledore, who slowly stepped forward and hovered over Riddle, an unreadable look on his face. 

     Marcia yawned impatiently and scratched the tip of one ear as Dumbledore turned from Riddle and looked over the others. The sword her lap bobbed, and Draco eyed it warily before he scooted slightly away from it. Potter was tense and watched Dumbledore closely, as if measuring his reaction to the others as a judgment. 

     Dumbledore looked at Potter over the lens of his glasses. "Riddle," he said carefully, "will need a strong arm to lean on." 

     Harry2 jumped to his feet. "I've got a strong arm." 

     Draco looked at Marcia's sword. He jumped to his feet as well. "Me too," he said. 

     She glared at him. "If you're doing what I think you're doing, I think you better not do what I think you think you're going to do." 

     Draco blinked. "Say what?" 

     "Stay away from my son, you harlot!" 

     "Mooooommmm!" 

     Draco ignored Marcia as he strode over to Riddle's side. He stooped over long enough to hook a steady hand beneath Riddle's armpit and heave him to his feet. Pinky gasped and Riddle swayed. Potter slowly stood up. He moved to stand beside Dumbledore. 

     "Where to?" Draco asked Dumbledore with a big smile.   
  
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     Riddle was taken directly to the hospital wing. He leaned heavily against Draco as Dumbledore led the way. Pinky followed closely at Riddle's heels, clutching his wand closely to her tiny chest. She stared at her Master with large, worried eyes. Harry and Harry2 followed behind with Marcia between them; both Harrys were ready to grab Riddle should he stumble. Francis trailed behind them, with Potter at his side. They made their way to the hospital wing without too much incident. Once there, Francis complained of being tired. While they waited for Madam Pomfrey to diagnose Riddle's problem, Francis curled up on an empty hospital bed and fell asleep. 

     Harry slouched in her seat, all to aware now of her swollen and painful breasts. Draco and Marcia began to bicker about little things, such as what were good baby names (Marcia liked the name Stanley, and Draco did not care for it). Harry2 interjected once with an inquiry of how he and Draco were going to manage to have children when they were both men, and besides, the chance of their even getting together long enough to have sex was in the negative numbers anyway. 

     The looks Marcia and Draco gave him was enough to make him roll his eyes and go off in search for Severus. Pinky settled herself at Riddle's side and refused to budge for the world, nor would she talk to anyone but Riddle, so no one learned how exactly she came to arrive in this reality. Dumbledore remained seated beside Harry, and said nothing as he watched Marcia and Draco arguing over the pros and cons of naming boys "Leslie." Potter disappeared somewhere; Harry supposed he had a class to teach. 

     Madam Pomfrey soon informed the others the full extend of Riddle's problems. 

     "His magic is depleted severely, as if he used a great deal of it to perform complex and powerful spells, or it was sucked from him. Because of this, his body is breaking down and is unable to repair itself. I recommend good food, and at least a week in bed to recover both his magical and physical strengths." 

     No one was too upset at having to learn they wouldn't be Jumping realities any time soon. With that news, Dumbledore roused Francis from his sleep, and showed them the rooms they would be staying in, with Marcia and Harry in one room and the men in an adjacent room. The rooms were almost identical to the same room Dumbledore had given them when they stayed in the reality where Francis and Sirius had been swallowed by Fawkes. 

     Francis stumbled through the room, collapsed face-first on the bed without changing clothes or taking his glasses off, and went back to sleep. He slept for sixteen hours straight before Severus, tired of waiting for him to awaken, grabbed him with a chilly hand and tossed him out of bed-along with the bed covers, the pillows, and the mattress. 

     "Huh? Wha?" Francis rubbed his eyes and squinted at Severus. "Oh. It's you." Francis slumped. "I'm so tired." He tiredly picked threads off his over robes. 

     "How long are you going to sleep?" Severus' words were hissed between his teeth and his back was ramrod stiff. Francis squinted at him again before feeling around for his glasses. He gave up on them when he couldn't find them and instead pulled his flight goggles low over his eyes. 

     "I'm going to sleep so long as it takes," Francis said as he curled up in the blankets. 

     "Takes for what?" 

     Francis said nothing as he pulled the blankets tighter around his shoulders. "Takes for the pain to go away," he said finally.   
  
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     Harry had no idea of how she was going to spend the time at Hogwarts. She did not have any desire to study, this was six years into the future, and everyone else had their own idea of what to do. The only two people she had gone to school with who were still in Hogwarts and were not professors were Potter (technically, they were the same person, but he was avoiding the Reality-Jumpers as if they were carriers of the Bubonic Plague; at least he knew they were relatively safe and was not plotting to kill them) and Neville (who was not talking to Harry because she was guilty by association with Severus). Harry2 and Draco had decided now was good enough time as any to sharpen up fighting skills, and Harry decided (after seeing them raze one of the unoccupied towers) it was safer for her to just learn how to outrun spells. 

     Finally, after learning that Francis intended to sleep his pain away (Severus told Harry he supposed Francis had enough time to enter a period of mourning for his family, especially after what he had seen at Dinsmore), and knowing that Severus was snapping and snarling at everyone once he had been separated from Neville, Harry gave up on seeking companionship with people she was comfortable with. Circumstances changed that, however. Two days after arriving in this reality, too early in the morning for any living soul to be up and about, Harry was awakened by dull pain at the very bottom of her stomach. The ache spread between her legs and around her thighs, and her breasts felt more sore than before. Harry stumbled from the bed she was shared with Marcia. 

     Sharing the bed with Marcia amounted to clinging to the edge and hoping in vain for a corner of the blanket. Marcia hogged the covers, hogged bed space, kicked and spoke in her sleep, and snored like a drunken bee. Harry barely spared Marcia a glance as she opened the bathroom door and entered it. She pressed a hand against her stomach and winced as her full bladder twinged. With a sigh, she moved to relieve herself, and stared in surprise at her underwear. 

     She was bleeding. She was bleeding_ there _of all places. 

     The resulting scream of shock woke Marcia in a flash. 

     "Huh? Wha? Who's dying?" Marcia scrubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand and jumped over to the closed bathroom door. "Harry! Wazza matter in there?" She pounded the bedroom door. 

     Severus materialized behind her. "What's going on here?" He stuck his head through the bathroom door just as Harry opened it and hurried through, looking panicked and close to hyperventilating. 

     "I'm bleeding!" 

     Marcia and Severus looked blankly for a moment. "Is that all?" Severus asked finally, scorn dripping from each word. 

     "Is that all?" Harry tightened her hands into fists. "Is that all? Here I probably ruptured something important, I'm bleeding in a sensitive place, and that's all you got to say?" 

     Marcia waved Severus away. "Don't tread into a woman's matter," she said testily. "Go 'way." 

     Severus glared down at her. "Why should I?" 

     " 'Cause I'm going to explain the facts of life to Harry." 

     "What's more is there to add to the facts of life other than death and taxes?" 

     "Sex," Marcia replied. 

     Severus sniffed. "Fine then." He disappeared through the floor. 

     Harry twisted the corner of her nightgown. "What's this about sex and the facts of life?" She had a dreadful feeling about what she was about to be told, and it had something to do with her bleeding. 

     "I'm going to give you an impromptu sex education," Marcia replied blithely. "You are a girl. You will bear babies, which is going to be the result if you get laid. You bleed once a month if you don't get laid and get pregnant and all that." 

     Harry waited for Marcia to continue, but the little crow demon regarded her expectedly and said nothing else. "That's it?" Harry asked finally. 

     "Well, I could go on about how losing your virginity's going to hurt like hell, and maybe even the biological aspects of your menstrual cycle, but that involves a whole lot of science. Don't think you actually want to hear about how your uterine sheds its lining when your hormones don't change on account of being pregnant." 

     "Oh." Harry scratched her head. "Why don't I just look this information up in the library instead?" 

     Marcia shrugged. "Unless this Hogwarts library is any different from the one I read through when my sweetie was a baby, then you won't find much biology beyond the eighteenth-century theories, and trust me: you don't want to read what misogynistic, narrow-minded, self-righteous men wrote about a woman's period. Even if they were wizards." 

     "Oh." Harry considered asking Madam Pomfrey, but what if Tom Riddle was awake and overheard? She hugged herself and felt very miserable. "I guess I can wait until I get home then and ask Hermione." 

     Marcia patted Harry's arm. "You do that." 

     "But, are periods supposed to be painful?" 

     "It's the cramps. Your uterus happens to be shedding a layer of flesh, and it's going to hurt. Some women have a higher tolerance for pain than others, some women happen to be more sensitive. It all depends on the individual."   
  
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     It was two days until Harry's cramps finally eased off with a bit of aid from Severus. In the meantime, the pain, not too intense to ask for medical relief but not minor enough to ignore, set Harry on edge. She snapped unreasonably at Draco when he offered her a back rub and then burst into guilty tears seeing his stricken look. Feeling bad, she wandered into the kitchens where a bowl of strawberry ice cream made her feel better. 

     Being a girl was a roller coaster of emotions. Francis stirred from his sleep twice, just long enough to exchange brief words with a few people and get a bite to eat. When he learned that Harry was having her period, he grinned weakly at her. "Pandora would suggest rose hip oil," he said. Then, realizing what he said, he looked ready to cry, and slunk off to sleep in his cushions on the floor. Harry cried at the memory of her family's slaughter and how Francis must feel to lose them in such a manner, and then proceeded to ease her sorrow with large slices of pie piled high with whipped cream. Having eased her sorrow with that, Harry then felt guilty about eating such food and gaining weight. Her body felt heavy and swollen, and she noticed a tightness in her school robes around her hips and chest. She indulged in chocolate pudding to help forget the feelings. 

     "You look beautiful," Draco said late evening on the second day of Harry's period. He looked at her appreciatively, but Harry still burst into tears. 

     "You're just saying that to make me feel better!" 

     Draco looked aghast. "But I mean it! You do look beautiful!" 

     Harry ran away from him to the kitchens, which was quickly becoming her favorite place to be, and indulged in custard. Just as she was finishing up her fifth bowl, Severus entered the kitchen. One glare from him sent the house elves hiding. He carried a steaming mug in his transparent hand, and set it in front of Harry with a loud thump. 

     "Drink it." 

     Harry eyed the drink suspiciously. "What is it?" 

     "Something to make me feel better." 

     Harry picked the mug up by its handle and peered at the greenish liquid. "Make _you _feel better? What about _me?_ Is it going to improve _my_ mood?" 

     Severus gritted his teeth. "At this point, I'll settle for tossing you off the Astronomy Tower." 

     "That's not going to improve my mood." 

     "It should improve your mood to know I won't if you drink this potion. Now, drink it." 

     Harry mentally shrugged before she took a sip. She made a face at its taste of stale beans. "Yuck. What is it?" 

     "Have I ever let you down before?" 

     Harry froze. "I don't like the sound of that." 

     Severus leaned forward, his dark eyes flashing menacingly. "Drink it." 

     Harry jumped at the snarl, and then hastily gulped the potion down. She barely managed to not gag at the very end, and then wiped her mouth vigorously when she set the mug down on the table surface. "Now what?" 

     "Now, you should begin to feel very sleepy." 

     "So it's a sleeping potion?" 

     "A very strong one that should ensure your rest for the next three days." 

     Harry jumped to her feet. "Now wait just a--" She fell forward, asleep instantly. Severus gathered her up in his cold arms. 

     "You really cannot feel any worse when you're sound asleep," he muttered to himself.   
  
====================  
  


     Harry awoke two and a half days later. She felt groggy and her mouth felt dry, like something fuzzy had crawled into it and died while she was asleep. She rubbed her eyes and looked around. Marcia was sprawled across the bed, wrapped tightly in the bundle of covers, sheets, and mattress pad. Black hair tumbled out of one end and feet poked out the other. Harry pursed her mouth and sat upright. She waited a moment for the world to stop spinning as she groped blindly for her glasses. She found them under her pillow, put them on, and stumbled to the bathroom. 

     She was no longer bleeding, her breasts were no longer swollen and sore, and she felt immensely better about herself. "I feel good," she decided. She rubbed her stomach and smiled in pleasure. She walked back into the room and nudged Marcia. "How long have I been asleep?" 

     Marcia mumbled something indistinguishable, and continued sleeping. 

     "Well, if anyone wants me for anything, I will be getting breakfast from the house elves." Marcia muttered something in reply to that; it sounded a lot like, " 'twas Ron's fault." Harry ignored it in favor of dressing in clean robes that some kind house elf had laid across the chair next to the bed. She splashed some cold water on her face, slipped her feet into soft-soled slippers, and padded off in search of the kitchens. 

     The halls were devoid of any living (or dead, as the case may be) creature. Harry was glad; she did not feel up to talking to Severus since he tricked her into drinking the sleeping draught to begin with. Harry entered the kitchen through the poster, looked around for a house elf, and saw Tom Riddle seated at a small table. His chair leaned against the wall and he had one hand pressed over his eyes as he nursed a hot cup of tea. Pinky sat in his lap, her little cheeks puffing out as she munched on a large mouthful of strawberries and whipped cream. She swallowed and took another large bite. "Yummy yummy!" She smiled at Harry in greeting. 

    Harry carefully sat at the table. One little house elf, with a vicious glare at Pinky, appeared at Harry's side. "What would Missy like?" he asked politely. 

     "I'll have what she's having," Harry said as she pointed at Pinky. "That looks good." The house elf glared at Pinky again before silently hurrying off to fetch a bowl of strawberries smothered in heavy whipped cream. Tom Riddle dropped his hand, took a sip of his tea, and watched Harry with bloodshot eyes. "So," began Harry, "how are you feeling?" 

     "Miserable." Riddle shifted in his seat. He carefully picked Pinky up without disturbing her snack and set her on the table surface. Pinky stopped chewing and stared at her master with worried eyes. "Look at this." Riddle tugged a long lock of hair before his eyes, which crossed to stare at the silver amongst the black. "This gray hair," he pointed at one strand, "is from your first dream of a visit. This gray hair is from your second. This is from your transfiguration, these are from your uncle Severus' transfiguration, and the rest of it is from all those damn Jumps." He dropped his hand and stared coldly at Harry. "I've aged at least twenty years in the past week I've been in the presence of your company." 

     Harry was not sure how to respond to this, except perhaps appeal to his vanity. "If it makes you feel any better, you're still very handsome, especially when you consider what Voldemort looks like." She shuddered. "Having gray hair is much better than being hairless, and wrinkles beat out lidless eyes, no nose, and pasty-white skin." 

    Tom Riddle settled back against his chair. A bowl of strawberries and whipped cream appeared before Harry and a spoon clattered at the side of the bowl. Harry picked up the spoon and dug into her fruit. "I take it most of the house elves don't like how Pinky is being treated." 

     Pinky looked up at the mention of her name. She straightened her thin shoulders defiantly. "Pinky's a good house elf," she said firmly. 

     "She is indeed," Riddle said in agreement. He lovingly rearranged the wig of corkscrew blond curls and fondly patted Pinky's shoulders. 

     "How come she has clothes?" Harry looked at the dress Pinky wore. It was powder blue with star-like sequins along the hem and frilly white lace. 

     "It's her uniform," Riddle said with a pointed look. "Pandora made the uniform and Pinky asked for a wig so she would be pretty enough to wear the uniform. Frankly, I think Pinky doesn't need it to look pretty as she is already very cute." Pinky turned adoring eyes on her Master. 

     "Silly!" She giggled and shooed Riddle's words away. "Pinky's not cute." She self-consciously touched one of the curls. 

     "Nonsense. You, my dear, are gorgeous." Riddle bowed slightly and smiled as he spoke. He noticed Harry's look of astonishment. "There is only one woman in my life and has been since my granddaughters left, and that is Pinky. Aside from Pandora, I have never known a woman to be as faithful and to show such fidelity to me as Pinky." He took a sip of his tea, and spoke softly, power accenting his next words. "And I always return that which has been given to me." Pinky finished the last of her strawberries, and he stood up. "Come, my lady," he said, holding his arm out to Pinky. She climbed over it and settled herself in the crook of his elbow. She clung to his robes and proudly held her head high as they left room, the Hogwarts house elves frowning with clear disapproval. 

     As Harry finished her strawberries, she had to wonder just how Death Eaters everywhere would react to how the man who could have become Voldemort treated a house elf with such affection.   
  
=====================  
  


     It took two more days for everyone to clear up matters and for Tom Riddle to finish his recovery before they were ready to Jump. Francis had to be stirred twice before he finally managed to drag himself out of bed. While waiting for him to dress, Harry voiced her concern about Francis. 

    "Is this healthy?" she asked everyone, sans Riddle, Pinky, and Francis. "Are people supposed to sleep like this? I was never this tired when Cedric died." 

     "You weren't as close to Cedric either," Severus pointed out. "Remember, Francis saw the deaths of his family. He's known all along they died and that they were killed violently, but I don't believe it actually had any affect on him until he actually _saw _what truly happened. It never truly hit home until he realized that they were dead, and this was how they died. Cedric died a merciful death, and your ancestors did not have that luxury." 

     "Depression," Marcia spoke from where she sat on the floor, holding Pandora's Box, "is handled differently by different people in mourning. Some throw themselves into so much activity that they don't have time to think of the pain. Others, like Francis, sleep, because you have be awake to deal with the pain. Don't worry; eventually most people sleep enough to numb themselves to the pain and then can function awake." 

     "Exactly," Draco said in agreement. "Francis has been too busy to cope with what happened. He's finally got the breathing room he needs and the time to go through the healing process. I haven't been with you, Francis, and Severus from the beginning, but even the time I've been with you has been enough for me to know this Reality-Jumping doesn't leave much room to breath, let alone mourn." 

     "Okay." Harry looked at Harry2. He had not said anything and did not look as if he were going to volunteer information any time soon. "I just feel worried about him." 

     "Perfectly natural to do," Marcia said cheerfully. 

     Draco smiled gently at Harry. "We'd be worried if you weren't worried," he said as he brushed some errant hair from her eyes. 

     Riddle entered the small room then, carrying Pinky in a special sling. "Hopefully this will be the last time we Jump," he said darkly with a cold glare at Pandora's Box and the Mirror of Rebounds, which sat next to Marcia. Francis trailed in behind him. 

     "Yes," he agreed softly. "Whose's going to start it?" 

     "I will," Harry said. She tensed as Marcia set Pandora's Box down, tilted the Mirror of Rebounds on its side, and stood up. Harry steeled herself against being sucked into the Mirror of Rebounds, and reached out to touch the cool surface of the Mirror of Rebounds' glass. Pandora's Box rattled, the Mirror of Rebounds whipped around, and power exploded in the room. Tom Riddle squeezed his eyes shut and hugged Pinky close as, one by one, the people beside him were pulled into the spinning Mirror of Rebounds. 

     Marcia scratched her chin. "Do I have to follow?" 

     Riddle gritted his teeth. "I wish I didn't have to," he said before he was pulled into it. Marcia watched as Pandora's Box was sucked into the Mirror of Rebounds, and then the mirror itself fold inward. 

     "What about me? How come I have to make the effort to follow?" She Jumped between the realities and watched as the others crashed down through the space, bouncing off the walls as Riddle's magic sputtered sporadically. She looked around at the walls of the realities and squinted at the cracks. The same magic that was pulling the others through the realities was leaking through the cracks. Marcia followed the lines of the cracks down to a hole in the reality wall. It looked like a tunnel that shot through all realities to the very center of the Universe. 

    _ Follow, _a whispery voice floated above Marcia's head._ Follow where this may lead. _

     "Why?" Marcia looked off into the distance where she could see her son. "What's the point?" 

     There was a painful silence._ Look, I'm having a hard day. I know this is supposed to sound mystical and all so you'd go to the very end of the tunnel, so couldn't you just do it anyway?_

     "Why should I? What's at the very end?" 

     There was a pitiful little sigh, and Cousin Quigley appeared in front of Marcia. "This is where I've been trying to get you ever since Harry started his Wandering. Please, just follow the tunnel and you'll find Pandora. There are several beings like you who exist in the Universe who can travel to Avalon, but you're the only one who knows anything about Harry Potter. You're the only one I can get to bring her back." 

    Marcia glared at him. "You said I'm not even supposed to be here!" 

    Cousin Quigley tiredly rubbed his eyes. "Well, I lied." 

    Marcia puffed her chest out and looked indignant, much like a mother who had caught her son with someone who she considered a Very Bad Influence. "That's a bad thing to do!" 

    "I know." Cousin Quigley gestured to the tunnel. "But can you follow it? Please? That's what you were supposed to do." 

    Marcia pressed a finger against her lip. "But what about my Harry?" 

    "I'll take care of him." 

     She frowned. "Now I'm worried." 

     Cousin Quigley looked at Marcia with sad eyes. "Please. I really need you to do this; I cannot, and you're the only person who can." 

     Marcia studied Cousin Quigley for a long moment. "It's miserable being immortal, isn't it?" Cousin Quigley nodded miserably. "And unlike you, I'm not bound to something's whims." She shrugged. " 'kay. Give my love to my sweetie when you see him, and let him know where I'm off to." With that, Marcia dashed down the length of the tunnel just as the others came out of their Jump and landed in the Hogwarts hospital wing, only a few minutes after Francis, Harry, and Severus first Jumped through Harry's accidental swat to the Mirror of Rebounds. 

     "We've back to our reality," Francis said as he looked around. The others slowly picked themselves up off the ground. 

     "How do you know?" Harry asked. 

     Francis pointed at all the mirrors and countryside paintings that surrounded a bed with rumpled covers, and the gold wedding band on the bed stand. "That's where all the portraits were, and that's my wedding ring." He smiled at the others. "Welcome to the right reality," he said brightly. "No more jumping." 

     "Yay," Tom Riddle said sarcastically from where he still lay on the floor, Pinky hugging his arm comfortingly. 

     "And we never found Pandora," Severus said, softly enough that only Harry, who stood next to him, heard.   


**author's notes:** I'm in college now, living in the dorms and quite some distance from my home. I have no internet connection, no working phone, and barely any hot water. Up until two days ago, I never even had all my furniture. This has been eight days since I moved in. Before that, I went to Canada, so now I can honestly say I've been to two countries (but I don't think Canada quite counts because in all my life except now I've lived from 15-50 miles from the Canadian border, so I was practically in Canada anyway. It wasn't much more different from Montana, other than it was flatter and had a lower drinking limit). Finally, my home is under fire. Literally. We were evacuated, came back three days later, and had to be re-evacuated when the fires came too close. I suspect there will at least be two more times this will have to be done until the snows fall; that's the only way the fires will stop. I'm hoping for a very early snow season--late September, early October, at the very least.  
The irony of this is how the fires are burning up all the old growth, and there was a big stink a few weeks earlier about the last independant, desperately struggling saw mills bidding to thin out a local nation forest and they were shut down by a judge because some of their logging was going to take place in some of the old growth. Well, use it or lose it, I saw. I guess we're losing it.  
Anyway, the point I wanted to make was I'm sorry for taking so long. The next point I want to make is I do have Chapter Twenty-seven nearly completed. I just have to find and fix mistakes and then HTMLize the chapter. I think it should be fairly soon, within the next couple of days. It's also a long chapter like this one, both being over seven thousand words long (author's note not including). =) 


	27. Chapter 27 revised 12 30 2003

Madam Pomfrey had never even noticed that Harry, Francis, and Severus had disappeared, and had to be told twice over what happened to finally comprehend why she was seeing what she was seeing. Harry was a girl, Severus turned into a living teenaged human when he stepped into the sunshine that streamed through a near-by window, an old Tom Riddle stood in the middle of her floor, Draco was in his twenties, and there was another Harry Potter to contend with. 

"This is most shocking," she said for the fourth time as she touched Harry's hair and arm, looked at Harry2, and touched the living Severus' arm as well. There was a look of dizzy incomprehension on her face. "I must tell the Headmaster immediately." She hurried out of the hospital ward. 

Harry2 turned to the others. "She took that better than I imagined. Well, if I'd had the time to imagine it, that is." He stared bemusedly after her, perhaps bored because of how little physical action took place in this reality. Francis looked around in search of a missing something. After a quick trip around the room, he turned to the others and held his hands up. 

"Where did Marcia go?" 

"Hmm?" Harry2 stirred from his thoughts and walked over to a chair to sit on. "Probably got distracted," he said with a wave. "Shiny objects and food easily distract Mom." 

The Bloody Baron slipped through the floor before Francis' feet. Francis jumped back and stared at the ghost with a suspicious glare. "Actually," the Bloody Baron said to Harry2, "our darling Hufflepuff sent her on an important mission. Off to do whatever the rest of you neglected to do." 

Riddle stirred from where he was laying on a nearby hospital bed with one arm flung across his eyes and Pinky sitting next to his pillow. "And what would that be?" he asked without stirring. The Bloody Baron said nothing as he disappeared through the floor. Francis sighed. 

"I wish our ghosts wouldn't that," he said. He absently fiddled with his goggles and went back to searching the room. Various old paintings, picture frames, and mirrors were hung around a bed with rumpled covers and a bandstand, which a large, plain gold wedding band sat upon. Francis picked the wedding band up and slipped it on his left ring finger with a forlorn expression on his face. He sank down on the bed and stared at the floor. Harry wandered over to his side and sat down on the bed beside him. "We didn't find her," Francis said mournfully, just loud enough for Harry to hear. 

Draco, bored, wandered over to stand beside Severus, who was standing in the sunshine that streamed through one of the hospital wing's windows. "So," he said, "we found a good Tom Riddle and brought him back. What do we need to do now?" 

"We?" Severus' eyebrow arched up. "You weren't even supposed to be here anymore than him," he nodded his head over to Harry2. "One of the questions we should be asking is how are we going to send you back." 

Draco looked at Severus in surprise. "I don't have anywhere to go. Need I remind you my reality is completely fucked over and the only two people I got along with now happen to be gone, placed in Marcia's care? Furthermore, I happen to like being here with you lot. It's like family, only, you know, with sex involved." 

Harry2's hand twitched from where he was sitting in the chair, and Francis' face turned bright red. Pinky gasped. 

"He said the S word!" she said indignantly. With one hand on her hip, she shook the other hand at Draco. "Shames on you!" 

"You tell him, Pinky," Riddle mumbled softly. Francis coughed into his hand. "Well, most other matters aside, the reason we were looking for and brought along Tom Riddle was so he could help us against Voldemort. We'll need to pool our information together, find out what is currently going on with our Voldemort, and then try to accommodate uncertain implications as they arise." 

"What sort of uncertain implications?" Harry asked. 

"Well, it has occurred to me that Sirius might see you like that." 

"Like this?" Harry looked down at her protruding chest. "I'm supposed to be turned back into myself when we got back, and we are back, right?" 

"Um. Yeessss . . ." Francis refused to look Harry in the eye. 

Harry frowned. "And I am supposed to be turned back into my male self, aren't I?" She tried to sound forceful, but there was a tickle of uncertainty in her voice that was clear. "You didn't lie, did you?" 

Francis floundered his hands in protest. "N-no! Harry, it's just that, well, imagine how much power it took to change you into a girl! Voldemort, in this reality, is going to notice it when we turn you back into yourself. He's going to recognize something of himself in Tom Riddle's power--as well he should--and we don't want his notice just yet. We may have to delay your, er, re-transfiguration until the time is right." 

Harry stared at the floor when Francis finished speaking. Francis studied her with a fair bit of nervousness and regret, but there was a feeling in the pit of Harry's stomach that she did not like. It felt, it was . . . Guilt? No. She did not feel guilty about being a girl. Disappointment? Yes, she was disappointed that she had been forced into this situation. Betrayal. Yes, that was it; Harry felt like she had been lied to. Francis was her great-grandfather and was supposed to be truthful and trustworthy. "But you said . . ." She stopped speaking. That was the attitude of a little child stamping his or her feet and saying, It's just not fair! You promised! You promised! I hate you, you big meanie! 

Harry sighed and buried her face in her hands. "How much longer am I gonna be like this?" 

Francis looked over to Riddle for support, but Riddle remained as he was, prone on the bed with his eyes covered. "It depends. It's not a permanent situation," he said hurriedly. 

"Unless," Severus said from his window with a hint of maliciousness, "Riddle is to die if he fights Voldemort and he never had the chance to turn Harry back into a girl." Francis glared at him and Severus shrugged. "We have to look at all possibilities. I am one of the first causalities, and it's safer to assume there will be more before this situation is resolved." 

"We will be turning Harry back before that happens," he said. "Hopefully we can arrange it so Tom Riddle won't use up so much power." He looked over at the bed where Riddle lay, as if waiting for him to say something. Perhaps sensing Francis' gaze upon him, Riddle stirred momentarily. He dropped his arm to his side and pushed himself into an upright position. Pinky looked at him in concern, her one little hand touching his robe to steady him. Riddle squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed them, and then squinted at Harry. 

"Give me some time to recover," he said. "I don't know how much power I may need to fight Voldemort, and how much time it is possible to gain between the fight and transfiguring you." He rubbed his eyes again and held his hands up to study. "Odd," he said softly to himself, "you seem to be blurring my vision." He squinted at Harry again, and then motioned her to stand closer to him. Harry reluctantly complied. As she came closer, she noticed how Riddle's hair was almost a solid silver color and his face was wane. Jumping realities had sucked life from Riddle as easily as the Mirror of Rebounds sucked magic from him as well. He grabbed her hand and caressed her skin as he stood, still squinting and studying her. With a muttered curse, he dropped her hand and collapsed on the bed. "My vision is blurring!" he snarled, rubbing his eyes more furiously. 

"What's wrong? Besides that, I mean," Harry asked. She placed her hand on his shoulder and felt the muscles bunching tightly. 

"Damned if I know._ Fuck!_" The furiousness of the word could have scoured paint off walls and perhaps intimidated Severus Snape. Riddle angrily pushed Harry's arm away and covered his face with his hands. Harry looked worriedly at him. Maybe being in different realities was slowly killing Riddle, since he was supposedly the only good Tom Riddle to exist in the Universe. Maybe there was a poison that affected Voldemort, and it was leeching into Tom Riddle, who had somehow escaped it in his own reality. 

What had they done to Riddle to bring him here? 

Francis walked across the room and knelt in front of Riddle. He pushed Riddle's shoulder's back and waited for Riddle to drop his hands and glower coldly at him for the intrusion. Francis scrutinized Riddle's eyes for a moment. "It almost looks like you have a concussion," he said. "Your eyes aren't focusing like they're supposed to, and your pupils are dilated so much I can barely see the irises." A hopeful note appeared in his voice, although worry grew more in his face as Francis looked from Riddle's eyes to Riddle's silver hair. "Maybe you just received a nasty blow to the head when you came through the Jump." 

Riddle said nothing. His eyes narrowed as he stood upright. He grabbed a lock of hair and tugged it before his vision. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he studied the silver; only a few, barely noticeable, threads of black remained. With a snort, he crossed his arms before himself. "I don't feel old," he said. He glanced sideways at Harry. "Do I look old?" 

Harry did not know of Riddle was asking her because she was female or because she was Harry Potter, but was she supposed to appeal to his vanity? "I think the hair makes you look distinguished," she said carefully. "You have some lines around your eyes, but you had them before." 

"Distinguished." Harry, as a boy, had realized there was something about girls that made him strive to attracting their attention, like Cho, whom she had a feeling would not want to see Harry Potter the girl. But seeing how Riddle perked up at the word, his shoulders straightening slightly, made Harry too aware of the power she wielded against the male gender. 

It made her feel queasy. Was this what she, Harry Potter, amounted to? Being a girl? Was this how people were starting to see her? A feeling of alarm began to rise in Harry's stomach, pushing like bile against the back of her throat. Her companions' idea of Harry's gender was changing their behavior towards her, and the thought sent a chill down her spine. "How soon will I be changed back?" She could not keep the fear from her voice, and Riddle's eyes flicked when he noticed it. Francis was right; Riddle's eyes were out of sync as they strayed into two different directions. 

"How soon will I know what to do with Voldemort?" he asked, answering her question with his own. "I must accommodate your change with information. Knowledge must be gathered so we can wring as much use from your transfiguration as possible. Can you wait?" 

Harry gulped. "Well." What if Sirius or, heaven forbid, Ron and Hermione, decided to visit suddenly? What if they decided that Harry fundamentally changed with the gender? Harry was Harry, irregardless of being male or female, or (Harry glanced quickly at Harry2, who was watching the scenario with avid interest) human or demon. Was it too much to be treated no differently now than it was when she had been male? 

Harry's gaze dropped to her breasts. _Guess not, _she thought ruefully.   
=========================   


Marcia cheerfully dashed down the length of the tunnel. Flashes and streams of color would whip past her, on to their own journey to another dimension somewhere, for whatever reason. She never questioned the formalities of how the dimensions shared aspects with one another through energies that diffused between the dimensions and sought like out. While Marcia may have seen many things through her life, she forgot most of it. A sense of familiarity lingered with many things, but the specifics easily escaped her. She was not really bothered by most of it, since being bothered took time and effort, and Marcia rarely invested her time and effort into bothersome things. 

Another light flashed in front of her, and then stopped. Marcia stared at James Potter and he stared back. "If you want my son, you can't have him," she said finally. "You gave him to me and it's too late to take him back." 

James looked startled. "Which one?" 

"Dunno. How many were you supposed to have?" 

"Well, I'm waiting for some things to start happening in my original reality, but until then I'm not needed so I was just exploring around." He flinched and looked over his shoulder. "I wouldn't have minded more children. Lily and I talked about it and decided four was a very ideal number, if that's what she wanted to go through because, well, I wasn't the one trying to push something the size of a watermelon through my body orifice the size of like yay." He shaped his fingers into a small circle. Marcia winced. "However, looking through these various realities, I've leaned more about the various twin sisters Harry had than anything else. Oddly enough, he never had any brothers." 

Marcia rubbed her ear thoughtfully. She would not have minded giving Harry a little brother or sister, but when she took care of the Haflings, a troop of half-breeds left over from Voldemort's reign of terror, Harry suddenly had a family whose dysfunction easily matched the dysfunction of Marcia's family. "Is having a twins sister a bad thing?" 

"Not exactly. But these girls are frightening! Most of them were powerful beyond any right, had identical scars as Harry, and were never even touched with the Killing Curse as Harry was. They also beautiful and supposedly intelligent, although most of them had an attitude that would have made my grandmother take them over her knee if they ever expressed it to her. Mind you, I was never spanked, but I wasn't cheeky either." 

Marcia nodded her head in agreement. While her own mother was patient and even-tempered, it did not do to upset her. Ria had never raised her hand against Marcia (mostly because Marcia somehow managed to outrun Ria before she could get the swatting she so richly deserved), but she was perfectly capable of carrying a grudge for centuries. That was too long to go without custard. 

"I don't know how or why Lily and I managed to have so many of these twins in so many different realities and just how obscenely and obnoxiously perfect these girls can be. It's simply nauseating, really." 

Marcia nodded again. Despite only knowing James Potter for a few brief moments, Marcia had always assumed she and he would have gotten along splendidly. Obscenely and obnoxiously perfect girls grated Marcia's nerves. Mostly because Marcia knew, no matter how hard she tried, she would never be perfect or beautiful or intelligent, or even popular for that matter. It made borrowing money from people a difficult thing to do. She actually had to_ work _for what she wanted when she was unable to steal it readily enough. Not that Marcia knew too many obscenely and obnoxiously perfect girls, unless one included her great-grandmother, who was such an airhead that Marcia did not really think Ilene was perfect anyway. 

"So I think I'll not go exploring anymore. Instead," James folded his legs beneath himself and sat down, "I think I'll just wait here until you pass through Grandmother and say hello to her." He smiled up at Marcia. "It wouldn't be so bad to see her again. I missed her." 

"But you're dead." 

He frowned. "I'm all too aware of that, thank you very much." 

" 'kay. Sometimes it's hard to tell with some of you ghosts." Marcia whipped around on her heel, carefully edged around James, and dashed down the tunnel. James looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes bottomless holes of darkness. Fine hair-like cracks appeared momentarily in the dimension's walls before he waved his hand. Energy leaked through the cracks and sealed them shut. James stood up, stretched his arms above his head, and sunk before the dimensional surface.   
====================   


It was a dark room made of up dark stone, with only a single body that lay across the threshold, an uncomfortable wooden chair, and an alter with a top of black obsidian. A single candle burned from where it rested in its stick on top of the obsidian. It was the sort of room where mad, evil geniuses would brood, but Voldemort was not prone to brooding. 

At least, not often and certainly not on an empty stomach, although his stomach was certainly very empty at this moment. The blood that covered the top of the obsidian was freshly shed, and he was drawing the needed symbols and runes into the blood before it congealed and became useless. It was not often he managed to get his hands on a virgin, especially in this day and age. 

Voldemort sneered at the thought. He had difficulty believing now than any girl over the age of sixteen could possibly be a virgin. It seemed to be an unspoken rule that the last day she was fifteen she had to have sex. And he had thought finding an innocent in the seventies was rough. At least the Amish Muggles still followed their old ways. Despite being Muggles, Voldemort admired people who ignored the changes of the "modern" world and retained their traditions. He admired that in a group of people despite enormous pressures and constantly arising inconveniences that tried to destroy the tradition. Now, if he could just get_ his _kind to do that . . . 

This was one of the simpler power ceremonies. He had to be clean of all traces of anything. He had fasted for the required twenty-eight hours, bathed clean, and then cut the sacrifice's throat. He had to use the blood of an innocent to bind the elements closer to his powers. Fire, water, air, earth; power, strength, time, chance. But he needed time for immortality, and it had to be bound to chance, so this time his immortality could repair itself and not be destroyed. He could control his destiny, and overwhelm the destiny of others so they could not destroy his time. Not like the last time, when power and strength joined with chance and led by time from so very long ago. 

If anyone had ever asked Voldemort why he wanted to be immortal, he would have sighed and said, "I need all the time in the world to complete my mission." 

He knew he was evil. He knew he was despised, hated, and feared by virtually thousands of people all over the world. So what? So what if these people hated, despised, and feared him? Hate was only the other side of love. It was a passion that could destroy the world and capture the attention of many. It did far more than love, because love dies. Hate lives on forever, and burns out only after the body gives up. Love withers away to a dim memory. Despicability could easily crush generosity, and fear keeps his enemies in check. 

And of them all, only three people never hated, despised, and/or feared him despite what he was, and Voldemort could not safely gauge their behavior. One was dead by his own hands, the other was a child who was not easily broken, and the third . . . Dumbledore. What was Voldemort to do with Dumbledore besides kill him? And therein lay the problem, for Voldemort could not kill Dumbledore quite yet. 

Voldemort paused and looked over the symbols he had drawn thus far. He corrected the curve in one of the runes with the tip of his pinky. These had to be correct. 

Humans were creatures of chance, and earth was life and life was the blood in the human body. Everything was just a large circle that led back around to one another. Everything was a coincidence if you looked backwards through time. Voldemort meant to capture that circle, those coincidences, to his own means. He would wrap his life and his power into continuous loops that would reconnect when interrupted. He would feed off of time and chance, and nothing was going to break him ever again. 

His fingers froze. There it was again. He looked off to the side and tried to understand what exactly it was. It disturbed him how he could feel echoes of his old power from so long ago flaring off from a distance. It disturbed him even more that the first time was a couple weeks ago and was tracked to_ that boy's _home. But to have two of those echoes within mere minutes apart from each other? Something was happening, and he did not like to be kept in the dark like this. 

Voldemort stood up, and stared down at his work. Should he continue? The ceremony had to continued immediately after the symbols were done so he could capture the power that lay in the fresh blood tied to dark sorcery. If he left now to learn what was going on, he would have to start all over again and it had been hell finding this young, supple virgin. 

With a resigned sigh, he sat down. The echoes could wait. His power lingered and he could recognize his own self well enough, even after time passed. But virgins were a rarity to come by in this day and age, and Voldemort was not the sort of person to waste perfectly good sacrifices. At least not as of lately.   
====================   


After an hour of silent brooding on everyone's parts (except Harry2, who doodled on glass that he fogged with a single puff of air, and Riddle, who took a nap on one of the hospital beds with the covers pulled up to his ears) Professor McGonagall entered the hospital wing. McGonagall's lips were pressed together in a colorless line and the look on her face was uncertain yet defiant. The defiance turned to confusion when she saw Draco, Harry2, and a rather solid, teenaged Severus. 

"This, this is certainly a surprise," she said as she looked around. 

"It could have been worse," Draco said flippantly. He stared at her openly when she gave him a warning look. She turned to Francis and Harry. 

"Do any of you realize the implications of this?" 

Francis looked up from the rubber band contraption he had been absently fiddling with as Harry watched. "I'm sure most of us are quite familiar with it. At the moment, we have three pairs of the same person running around, but each person is their own unique, individual self. Now, I realize that two Harrys and two Dracos are a bit of a shock, and that--" 

"Yes, there is that," McGonagall interrupted impatiently. "I meant the fact there is _one _Tom Riddle and _one _Voldemort in this country." 

"Oh._ That _implication." 

Severus turned around from where he was looking out the window. "I, for one, would love to see the look on their faces when they meet each other face to face." 

"As would I," said Draco. "But I'm grateful it's one Tom Riddle and one Voldemort, instead of two Voldemorts. Can anyone imagine how that would be like?" 

Harry2 grinned. "They'd either try and kill each other because of perceived competition, or they'd team up together because the only person you can trust is yourself, even if you are from a different dimension." 

"Either way," McGonagall cut in before anyone else could say anything, "the countryside is going to be torn apart." 

"Now we don't know that for sure," Francis said firmly. "We don't know the full extent of the damage these two can cause if they fight head-on with each other." 

"Francis." McGonagall folded her hands before herself. "Tom Riddle, Voldemort, either or both, is or are one or some of the most powerful wizards of our time." She threw her arms up in the air in defeat. "I'm not sure how to even address this situation with two people of the same sort to be addressed!" 

"You're doing well," Francis said helpfully. "What does Albus have to say of this?" 

"I have no idea at this point. Madam Pomfrey was still talking to him when Albus sent me here to speak to everyone. What I don't understand is how this even happened? I know you came through the Mirror of Rebounds and I know that has something to do with this, this 'skipping realities,' but I'm having difficulty understanding how." 

Francis nibbled on the inside of his lip as McGonagall frowned and looked over the top of her glasses at him. "Well, Harry made a mistake of touching the Mirror of Rebounds, and that was our first Jump. We were going to try going sideways through time so we could maybe find Pandora, and somehow, after we started Jumping, we got sidetracked into looking for a good Tom Riddle." 

"And you found him?" 

"Er, yes. Of course, good is merely relative, as I'm not quite sure what to make of this Tom. He's not Voldemort though and never was, so I suppose that's the best we're ever going to find. We went through hell and high water to fetch him. In the process, we ran into this Harry," Francis nodded his head to Harry2, "accidentally brought along Draco," he nodded his head to Draco, "and had to turn our Harry into a girl." Harry self-consciously tried to cover to her chest as McGonagall turned a disapproving eye upon her and truly noticed Harry's current physical for the first time. 

"Francis!" McGonagall hurried over to Harry. "What did you do?" 

"I didn't do it. Tom Riddle did." 

Harry did not think it was right that all the blame should be pinned on Tom Riddle. "You made him do it. All of you took a vote to transfigure me into a girl!" 

"But it was for your own good." McGonagall turned to Francis. 

"And how was it to be for Harry's own good? What if Riddle messed up? If something were to go wrong with the transfiguration, Harry would have become something too horrid to imagine and beyond anyone's ability to repair it!" 

Tom Riddle stirred from where he was laying under the covers. He sat up and glared at McGonagall, looking intimidating despite his silver hair sticking up in various directions. "Are you saying," he said in a low voice, power giving his words an impending sense of doom, "that I am incapable of correct transfiguration, even one as complex as gender changes?" Something crackled in the depth of Riddle's eyes; it took Harry a moment to realize that Riddle was very upset at someone insulting his skill and prowess. "While my skills in Transfiguration are not par to those of Albus', I am still perfectly capable of handling far-advanced, very complex transfigurations without making a mistake." He climbed out of the bed and walked to stand a length's distance from McGonagall. His expression hinted of danger as he demurely folded his hands before himself and said in a whisper, "Of all things that may be questioned of myself, my skill should never be one of them." 

McGonagall took a step backward, tense and alarmed as a swell of power surrounded Riddle and spread outward like a tidal wave. Harry's hair stood on end and she found herself reaching for her wand and her scar throbbed with the rhythm of the swelling power. Before she could say anything, Severus tossed a crumpled piece of paper he obtained from somewhere across the room. It bounced off Riddle's temple and he whirled around, power snapping about as his focal point changed. Severus gasped and bent slightly at the waist. 

"Close proximity to Voldemort appears to have an effect on you," Severus grunted as he wrapped his arms around his abdomen. 

Riddle froze at the words, and then snapped his wrists. The power surged backwards to him and disappeared. He slouched over, a tired old man without the support of his magic. "My vision is starting to blur again," he said as he pressed a hand against his eyes. McGonagall grasped the front of her robes as if to shield herself from him. Riddle barely afforded her a glance as Draco stepped forward and lent Riddle his arm. "I may not have time to recover," he said. "I need to know about Voldemort now." He dropped his hand and glared at McGonagall, not nearly as menacing as before. "Where is Dumbledore?" 

"Here," a soft voice called from the entrance of the hospital wing. "Of all the things I might have imagined when Poppy told me of this reality jumping, seeing you was not one of them." His gaze was assessing as he stepped forward, Madam Pomfrey closely at his heels. "I don't believe I can trust you, or this situation, especially considering such strength." He stopped moving and continued to watch Riddle with eyes that seems to know and understand everything seen. 

"I wouldn't trust myself either, if I became such an abomination," Riddle said. He leaned against Draco for support and nodded his head to the bed he had been napping in. Draco led him to the bed, where Pinky stood on the pillow and watched her Master with wide eyes. Riddle carefully sat down on the bed and rubbed his eyes again. Francis gestured to Madam Pomfrey. 

"We think he hit his head," he said softly. "His eyes won't focus and he complains of blurry vision." 

Lips pressed tightly together, Madam Pomfrey hurried to Riddle's side. She placed her hand under his chin and tilted his head back. She studied his gaze with a frown, dropped his chin, and then began to press her hands against his scalp. "Tell me if this hurts," she said, carefully palpating his head and the back of his neck. 

"I don't feel anything except annoyance with myself," Riddle muttered stubbornly. When he said nothing more, Madam Pomfrey dropped her hands and stepped back. 

"Use your eyes to follow my finger, do not turn your head as you do." Madam Pomfrey moved her hand from different angles away from Riddle's field of vision. She frowned as his eyes jerked and strayed from looking at her finger. "Something is wrong with your vision, but you have not suffered a blow to the head--at least none so far as I can tell. Definitely neurological, though." 

"I suspect," Riddle glanced at Severus, who was leaning against the window with his arms wrapped around his abdomen and wincing, "that Snape has a point: Close proximity is having an adverse effect. We need to move quickly. We need information quickly; we need to fight quickly." From the look Riddle gave Francis, Harry had to wonder when these two had time to discuss ideas of what to do when they finally arrived at their destination. "So far, the only thing we know is that Voldemort is here as am I, my power will attract his attention if it hasn't already when I transfigure Harry, and it's not going to be pretty when we come face to face." Here, he looked at Harry2, who watched Riddle with a closed expression. 

Riddle carefully stood up, brushed away Pomfrey's offer for help, and walked over to stand at the window beside Severus. "Can you get the information we need?" 

"Specifics," Severus growled. "What exactly do you need to know?" 

"I need to what Voldemort is now. What sort of backup does he have? His depth of knowledge if at all possible of knowing. I will need a monitor of his reaction when I transfigure Harry. I need to know what is going on now." Riddle looked at Dumbledore. "Can you help me with any of this?" There was a pleading note in Riddle's voice that caused Dumbledore's eyes to widen in surprise. 

"Yes. I have informants who watch Voldemort closely." Dumbledore patted his beard in thought. "They could be here within the hour if you so need to speak to them." 

Riddle nodded his head. "The sooner the better." He looked apologetically to Harry. "Time creates a unique problem for us. Now, were I Voldemort, and were I trying to recover power I had lost through a rather drastic situation, I would like some time in which to do this. And the more time I invest, the more powerful I would become." Riddle closed his eyes briefly. McGonagall and Pomfrey looked aghast at the idea of Riddle being Voldemort. His eyes opened and he smiled wryly at the two women. "In which case, it would be more easier to act as quickly as possible. Since I never really investigated the dark sorcery necessary to make myself powerful, I have no way to make an honest measurement of where Voldemort currently stands with what he is going. Still, it would not be wise to wait too long." His gaze shifted to Harry. "And were I Voldemort, I would recognize that something is going on with Pandora's Box opening and closing all the time, and would investigate it. It won't take him long to learn that there are people here who shouldn't exist, and when that happens all hell will break free." 

A chill ran up the length of Harry's spine. "So what do we do?" she asked in a small voice. "If that's the time and the place, what are the means?" 

Riddle pushed his hair away from his face and looked annoyed. "That may be where you come in," he said. "From what I understand, there is only one person who can aggravate Voldemort into doing something he had not planned. We can use Harry Potter to force him into the time and place we select, and then I will deal with Voldemort from there. We can take care of your transfiguration at the same time, but we must move quickly and our information must be as complete and precise as possible. One small misstep on anyone's part and it can mean death and worse." Again, Harry had to wonder when Riddle had time to discuss this with Francis, who was currently rummaging through his pockets for something to give to Dumbledore. 

"No!" Draco hurried forward and planted himself in front of Harry. "I refuse to let you put her into danger! You want to use her as a decoy, don't you?" Harry tried to peak around the wide breadth of his shoulders. She looked with confusion from Draco, who stood before Riddle defiantly with his hands on his hips and his feet spread wide, to Riddle, who observed Draco's behavior with barely-masked annoyance. 

Did Harry ever act that impetuous when she was male? _I can't believe I just thought that._ Harry acted like that when she was male, so maybe it was just apart of the personality. Gender had nothing to do with it. So why was McGonagall giving Harry that odd look? Harry had not done anything to seduce Draco into his actions. (Harry cringed at the thought and felt her face glow red.) 

"Did I say we were going to use _her_?" Riddle asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Harry thought she caught a spark of his power igniting, but the feeling was too swift for her to tell. 

Draco pointed at Harry2. "And he's different enough that Voldemort would suspect something." 

"Um. Excuse me." Harry poked Draco's shoulder. He shrugged her hand away. Harry quickly glanced at Harry2, who shook his head ruefully and looked away. 

"And where do you think you come into the plans?" Riddle asked. He slowly stepped closer to Draco. "The only one who can force Voldemort's hand is Harry or myself, and we'll have to work together as a team. The only one Voldemort is expecting is Harry, and we can't afford to lose the advantage we have." 

"And you can't use her. You'll be putting her directly in front of enemy fire, and I won't let you do that. She can't take care of herself." 

Harry stamped her foot. It was all about Harry being female! They weren't looking at Harry for what she--he actually was! "That is so sexist! You wouldn't be saying that to me if I were male!" 

Draco looked over his shoulder at her. "Be quiet. I'm doing this for your own good." He turned back to Voldemort, and Harry viciously shoved her shoulder against his back. 

"Now you listen to me!" She glared at Draco as he righted his balance, whipped around to glare at Francis before he could say anything, and then silently seethed as she scowled at everyone else. "I haven't heard the entire plan at this moment, and if that's the entire plan then we obviously need to think of something else." Harry threw her hands up in the air. "And so what if I'm used as a decoy?" She poked Draco in the chest as he took an angry step forward. "I can take care of myself! You have been underestimating me since I became a girl, and that's not saying much for you! I haven't always been a girl, nor will I always be a girl, so don't start thinking of me as a girl! Who was it who faced Professor Quirrel over the Philosopher's stone? Who was it who took on Riddle's basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets? Who was it who took on dementors? Who faced Voldemort over the Goblet when she--er, he, I was tied up? It was me! And even though I had some help with Nagini, I still faced her as well, chained naked to a slab of stone! You weren't there to protect me, and neither was Dumbledore or Francis or Severus or anyone else! It was me, so don't you be standing there as if I'm not here and tell everyone else that I'm incapable of taking care of myself. I got through this reality jumping like everyone else did." 

"You're lucky," Harry2 muttered softly. "You escaped having Professor Umbridge." 

Draco grabbed Harry's upper arm fiercely. She yelped at the sharp pressure of his fingers and tried to pull free. "And who was it who lost his right eye when he fought my father? Who was it who was half-paralyzed when he was struck down from behind by a Death Eater?" Draco's face was red with anger and his eyes glittered dangerously as he punctuated his words with a shake. "Who was it who_ died _when Voldemort was killed? It was you! You! You! You! You aren't invincible or immortal and you can get hurt or die just like anyone else in this room! 

"Don't touch me!" Harry slapped his shoulder as she tried to pull away, and stomped her foot in a fit when she could not. How dare he lever his strength against her! "All you are here is a vicious brat who would very much like to see me hurt or dead and I hate you! And if that isn't enough, I am defined by what I do, not by what I have become and every single one of you don't bother treating me like Harry! To you all, I'm just a girl and I'm tired of it! I became a girl to help, and I hate it!" The heel of her hand slammed into Draco's jaw and he reeled backwards in shock, more out of her words than the blow. The expression on his face as he looked at her was that of a heartbroken puppy. 

He rubbed his jaw, and then anger came back. "Well, fine! So I am a vicious brat! So be it! Go ahead and die all over again because I simply don't care anymore!" He stumbled backwards and sat heavily on one of the hospital beds. Harry, close to tears of frustration, hurried past him. 

"Fine!" She yelled over her shoulder. "I can get killed well enough without your help then, male or female, because I'm Harry Potter and I exist to die!" She slammed the door to the hospital wing behind her so hard the mirrors and pictures on the walls rattled. 

McGonagall started after Harry, but stopped when Severus started to laugh. Draco gave him a dirty, slightly tearful, glare from where he sat sulking. "Lovers' spats," said Severus with a malicious amusement, "are never pretty, but always highly entertaining." Still chuckling, he turned to look out the window once more. 

"Didn't look like one to me," Francis said to no one in particular. "Looked more like the one time Oliver managed to lose his temper with the twins." 

Harry2 brushed past McGonagall. "I think I'd better be the one to speak to her," he said. 

"I'll come with you," Francis said as he took a step forward. Harry2 stopped with the door half-open. He looked over his shoulder at the others. 

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "Of all of us in this room, I probably know Harry best because I'm Harry too. We're not the same person, but we share some basic thoughts, opinions, and experiences. I also have many female relations in my life--most, admittedly, are family and are about as feminine as a rock, but still, they go through that time of month and everything--so I've a fair bit of experience with the female mind. Harry doesn't think he's changed because he's now a she, but the problem is he_ has_. So much has happened to him as a girl that it won't just disappear right now. So I think it's best that I'm the only one who speaks to her at this moment." He exited the room, closing the door softly behind him. 

"Be honest, Francis," said Riddle with another wry smile. "How many women in your family actually threw a fit like the one Harry just had? Pandora wasn't prone to fits, and Anastasia and Edwina chose to get even rather get mad." 

Francis nodded his head sadly. "Too true," he said. He brightened up. "But my mum was prone to fits. We never had fine china because she tended to throw stuff around the room. Of course, I hid under the furniture when that happened, although she never did aim what she was throwing at me." McGonagall and Dumbledore nodded their heads; having known Francis as a child, they both knew of his childhood and parental guidance. 

Riddle was silent for a moment. "Why?" he asked finally, when no one else would. 

"She always said if a person could afford it, they should always throw some things around to ease frustration." Francis scratched his head. "I'm not too sure it worked, since she always tended to get more frustrated the more she threw things around the room. And it wasn't as if we could afford the fine china, anyway."   
======================   


Harry2 followed the sounds of Harry's footsteps and her heavy breathing to the kitchens below. He had not quite expected Harry to retreat to food, but he found her eating some of the lasagna the kitchen house elves were making. At the sight of Harry2 entering the kitchen from behind the portrait, she tried to hide the lasagna. Harry2 waved it away. 

"I'm not hungry," he said as he sat down on one of the chairs across from Harry. She contrived to look guilty, and then took a defiant bite of the lasagna, as if to accuse him of lying. "I was thinking," Harry2 began. Harry watched him warily. "Have you ever noticed how problems have to be handled in a Wizardly fashion, despite the vast resources of Muggle technology that, really, could slaughter the problems we have? Mom always wondered why a sniper couldn't just shoot Voldemort with a high-powered rifle. Sometimes, I wonder myself. It's amazing the problems that can be solved with a few bullets. It sort of reminds me of my second year." He leaned his chair back. "Mom popped up when we were discussing the matter of the danger lurking in the school walls. She didn't see how magic was going to protect me, so she decided to do it herself. Mom may be a creature of magic, but she's not a creature with magic. She prefers science and falls back onto it when magic fails or doesn't seem to work as she thinks it should work. So she gave me a kikidid." 

Harry2 looked at Harry expected. She swallowed her mouthful of lasagna. "What a kikidid?" 

"It's this little gun, about so." Harry made a rectangle with his fingers that was the length of one hand. "And it can only fire two to five shots, depending on how low the setting is. Mom gave me the super small setting. However, you rarely need a second shot to finish off what the first one was incapable of doing." 

"What does it do?" 

"That involves a lot of science." Harry2 held up his hand before Harry could protest. "Now I know that you were raised with Muggles and know a fair bit more about science than most wizards or witches do. But the long and short of it is the kikidid fires an electronic beam that excites electrons to the point where they jump out of the molecule. The kikidid's target generally disintegrates as a result. This beam can cover quite a distance in any sort of terrain (I've seen my uncles use the kikidid on a high setting to demolish whole mountains), and is so quick it's nearly impossible to avoid. What Mom wanted me to do was fire the kikidid at my target and kill it before it turned me into stone." 

"Is that how you defeated the basilisk?" 

"Not really." Harry2 scratched his head. "Tom Riddle--the ghost, the one in the diary?" He looked at Harry, and she nodded to show she understood who he was talking about. "Well, he took it from me. He had no idea what it was for, but knew it must have meant something." Harry2 laughed, more nervous than anything else. "Riddle fired it by accident and shot the basilisk." He laughed again as Harry stared in wide-eyed disbelief. "And while he stood there in shock at this itty-bitty pile of dust, his jaw hanging somewhere in the vicinity of his knees, I burned his diary into ashes." Harry2 grinned as Harry clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled. 

"Not the first time Mom's science helped me. Or got me into trouble. You should have been there the day Ron and I flew to Hogwarts' in Mom's little Cricket. Well, I guess you were there. The Cricket's a spaceship Mom stole long before I was born. Nandin drove it because I called him about being stranded outside the platform. Over Hogwarts, the field of magic interrupted the magnetic fields of the various computers inside the Cricket, and we dive-bombed the Whomping Willow. Ron and I got into trouble naturally, and there was no one to prove we weren't the ones who flew the ship into the Whomping Willow because Uncle Nandin took on his cat form and Mrs. Norris," he grinned, "Mrs. Norris was in heat! We didn't see either of _them _for quite some time." Harry2 laughed and clapped his hands. "Mom's AI was always a little sassy, but that thing threw the largest hissy-fit in the history of AIs, booted us out of its hull, and scuttled off as fast as it could. Now, I honestly don't know how it managed to actually scuttle around in the magical field, but it did. Mom was furious--I've never seen her that angry before. She said she went into a lot of trouble stealing the Cricket." 

"Did she ever get another one?" 

Harry2 rolled his eyes upward to the ceiling. A small smile lifted the corner of his lips. "Yeah, she did get another one. And in the same manner as she got the old one. She had to hide it in the lake outside the castle here so the authorities couldn't find it. The water leaked into the cockpit, the merpeople drew graffiti all over the outside of the ship, and the giant squid became quite, ah, affectionate with it." 

Harry giggled again as she imagined an amorous squid. "You're kidding!" 

"No! No, I kid you not." 

"Merpeople don't graffiti spaceships." 

Harry2 leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. "How do you know?" he asked with a suggestive wag of his eyebrows. 

"They just don't!" 

"So says the ignorant barbarian from a fourth-rate planet." 

Harry smacked Harry2's upper arm. "I am not a barbarian!" 

He jumped up and pointed at her. "Then you admit to being ignorant and living on a fourth-rate planet!" 

Harry sat quietly for a moment, and then laughed. "So maybe I don't know. Sometimes I think that you make some of this stuff up about your family. I bet you're just doing this to make me laugh." 

Harry2 spread his arms wide. "I never lie," he said. "Just because my family happens to be so dysfunctional doesn't mean that what they do isn't true. It is! That's what makes them such a dysfunctional family." 

Harry sighed longingly and propped her elbows on the table. "I guess. At least you had a family that love you, right?" 

Harry2 folded his arms on the table again. "Yeah. There's no denying I'm the apple of most of my relatives' eyes. But you have family as well." 

"If you want to call a grandfather whose supposed to be dead, a ghost of an uncle who got turned into a teenager capable of coming back to life in the sunshine, and a drunk manipulator family." And various portraits that couldn't come out of frames or mirrors. 

Harry2 studied Harry's face. She dropped her eyes and took another bite of her lasagna. "Draco wouldn't mind being apart of your family." 

Harry nearly choked on her lasagna. Harry2 lightly pounded her back as she hacked and coughed. "Wh-what? He's even more dysfunctional than Severus! I wouldn't marry him if he were the last guy on earth and I was to be a girl forever!" 

Harry2 leaned back. "Sex, sex, sex! That's all anyone thinks about!" He pressed his fingertips against his lips in thought for a moment. "Has it ever occurred to you that Draco happens to _like_ your _company_? Okay, so maybe he also likes the sex, but that's not the point here! Two people of opposite, or even the same, gender don't have to have sex in order to be more than friends. If that is all a relationship can be based upon, physical attraction and physical pleasure, it won't last. Try to think _above_ that." 

Harry pointed at the general direction of the hospital wing. "He started it!" 

"Harry!" Harry2 stopped. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "I don't want to shout at you," he said softly as he leaned back. "But sex is not the best thing since grilled cheese sandwiches. I know; it was the only thing Mom could somehow cook without destroying." 

Harry looked thoughtfully at Harry2. "Your childhood was spent living off of sandwiches, wasn't it?" she asked. 

"And custard. Grandmother always made this special custard and brought it to Mom and me, rain and shine and snow, every Wednesday, despite my being in class or not. It got to the point where she would bring custard for all of my instructors and everyone in my Griffindor class. But getting back to the original subject, lust does not equate love, or vice versa, but it's easy for someone to pretend that one is the other, rather than how they tend to stand side by side, and do not depend on one another for affection to come out of the relationship." Harry2 sighed and buried his face in his hands. 

"I'm seventeen years old. I'm in my last year at Hogwarts. I haven't killed Voldemort yet, and it's going to be quite a mess when I go head on with him. I'm not human; I stopped being human when he attacked me with the Killing Curse when I was only a year old." He dropped his hands and looked at Harry, all cheer and goodwill aside. Harry felt herself leaning back from the hard look in Harry2's eyes. "I've got some wacky relatives and, yes, even some relatives who are very wise. My grandparents run separate kingdoms in separate Realms, and years pass between their seeing each other. My grandmother once told me that the things she missed the most about Grandfather was the loss of contact, of companionship. It's something you become quite attached to. 

"People, they are social creatures. They crave human contact and socialization. In wars, they tend to bond more because there is always the threat of losing that contact forever. Draco Malfoy bonded to Harry Potter. Now, I don't know the full story. He says it was a love potion gone awry and there was a series of events that led up to working with one another and_ forming trust _that allowed the love potion to work. And then war came. Draco and Harry learned to depend and protect each other's lives, and that meant a lot. When you protect your friends, Harry, you have in your hands something exceedingly precious." Harry2 cupped his hands together and studied them intently. "And when you lose it, you know what the cost of that will do to you. Human life is fragile, and the shock of it being shattered forever leaves wounds that probably never heal. 

"Draco had you, and he lost you, and then you came back." 

"What about you?" Harry asked defensively as she squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. "You're just as much Harry Potter as I am." 

Harry dropped his hands. His dragon tattoo blinked its red eyes at Harry. "Am I?" he asked. "Harry Potter is a human being, and I'm not. I'm not connected to Voldemort as you are, because I've dual natures. He took the blood of my human nature, not my demon nature. Draco sees and understands that. He knows he has little chance of becoming a lover with me. A friend, yes, but not a lover. At least, not so long as my mother is living, and she's going to outlive us all. And even if I wanted to have lover of the male gender, I happen to know a dhampire who wouldn't have minded in the least with going with me to the fourth-year Yule Ball despite being a, well, male dhampire. And I get along with Dimitri a lot better than Draco." 

Harry sank low in her chair as she pushed her lasagna away. "Why me?" 

"Because you're not a demon," Harry2 said with a small smile. "But, Harry, at the moment all Draco wants from you is contact. Now, men, as you should very well know, don't reach out for contact like women do. We aren't so touchy-feely. Unless sex is involved. Or at least that's what I've been told by my uncles, who, I might had, are clumsy with women so they really don't get any." 

Harry did not think she was touchy-feely as a girl either. Well, there were those bouts of concern she tended to have for Riddle, but that was only because she did not want him to die before he killed Voldemort. Or maybe not. Harry winced at the thought of how she might have been mothering Riddle, and swore viciously at her estrogen for being a bad influence on her moods. Damn it, Harry wanted her testosterone back! 

"I suspect that comes with age. But in some ways Draco is very much like his Sirius. He's very much like a little boy trying to cling to something similar to what he's lost. He handles it much easier than Sirius did, but there's that quality of his trying to seek comfort and assurance from you through physical contact. Now this physical contact takes on a form I'm quite sure we'd all rather he didn't express. But that's all he knows. I don't think he received the innocent sort of physical contact from his parents; upperclassmen aren't very hands-on with their children." 

Harry frowned. "Are you saying that Draco's parents abused him?" 

Harry2 looked surprised, and then he quickly shook his head. "Oh, no!" 

"Neglected, then?" 

"No, not really. Not in most senses of the word. When you're raised in the sort of environment as he was, you get people to take care of you like a nanny or a governess. Your parents' approval amounts to giving you everything that you want, like toys and candy on demand. There's no doubt in my mind that Draco was a very spoiled child. You're right about that. But Draco didn't receive what I got; hugs, kisses, pats on the head." Harry2 rolled his eyes. "Cheeks pinched, ears tugged, hair mussed. These are things of human contact, and all he learned to associate with human contact is sex. So you have to sort of bear with it." 

Harry stared at the table's surface for a long while. She sighed and finally nodded her head. "I guess so," she said. "I usually don't think of seventeen-year-olds being wise enough to think of this." 

Harry2 grinned. "I had a discussion with Francis while you were sleeping off Professor Snape's potion for moody women." 

"Oh." Harry looked down at her lasagna, and then shoved it away. "I've lost my appetite," she mumbled in explanation to Harry2's puzzled expression. He nodded his head at that, as if understanding. "It's just so . . . I don't know. I'm not used to men fawning over me, and I sort of maybe like Draco, you know, potentially as a _friend._ I guess I'm not keen at all with the concept of sexual contact with a man, because that's what I'm supposed to be. I'm not interested in the male species like_ that._ And it didn't change, even when I became a girl." She looked at Harry for agreement, or at least sympathy. 

"I think it's a matter of getting used to," Harry2 said carefully. "I mean, the concept that Draco likes you, not the concept of you liking Draco." He paused. "That sounded bad," he said with a slight frown. "Forget I said that." He grinned suddenly. "I never discussed this part with Francis. I think my Mom said it best. Either you want sex, or you don't." He waited to see if Harry would say anything, but when she remained silent he stood up and held his hand out to her. "Come on," he said. "We best get back to the others. I don't think we should make Voldemort wait on the account of moody teenagers trying to sort out their lives." 

"Well, he should," Harry muttered as she was helped to her feet. "Maybe after he does, he could probably become a little more human. Or are we talking about Tom Riddle?" 

"He said he has grandchildren. I think that's proof enough that he had sex with someone, and therefore is a little more familiar with hormones."   
=================   


Harry and Harry2 entered the hospital wing together, not knowing where to look for the others. The only one who was there was Draco, slouched over on one of the beds and looking as if his heart had broken. 

Harry2 prodded Harry in the side with his forefinger. "Go talk to him." 

"Why should I?" 

"Because he cares." 

Harry obstinately crossed her arms before herself. "So?" 

"Harry, you want someone who cares for you? You want a family? There's Draco. Prove you want it." 

She shook her head. "What if I don't want_ him _though? I said, I'm not too keen on male sexual contact when I'm a boy. I happen to like girls, thank you very much!" 

Harry2 sighed as he massaged the bridge of his nose. "Then you currently have more than what he has. He's not in his reality, he doesn't have his friends like Sirius or Remus, and he thinks he's going to lose you all over again. I'm willing to bet that this is worse for Draco being here than Francis coming into the future and learning his family was slaughtered by Voldemort. At least Francis was still in his own reality." 

Harry had not thought of that. "You think so?" she asked in a tiny voice as she looked at Harry2 with worried eyes. Francis had been heartbroken and miserable off and on, but she had not liked how he decided to sleep endlessly in the last reality. Harry2 solemnly nodded his head in answer. Harry nervously wrung her hands as she took a few steps forward. Draco was bent halfway over his lap, one hand covering his eyes as the other gripped a fistful of hair. Harry quietly approached him. She glanced over her shoulder at Harry2, but he silently closed the door and waited outside the hospital wing. 

Harry carefully perched herself on the edge of the bed Draco sat on. He did not stir. She reached out and ran her hand down the length of his back. Through his robes, she could feel his muscles bunched and tensed. "I'm sorry," she said finally, not really knowing what she was supposed to say under the circumstances. Draco was still. Did he hear her? Harry leaned forward and he looked up, his eyes red. He reached out to her suddenly and when his hands touched her shoulder, she tensed. 

Draco froze. "Can I hold you?" he asked her. "Just hold you?" Harry searched his face for anything beyond the misery and sadness. She nodded tersely, and he pulled her close to him in a tight embrace. He planted a kiss on the top of Harry's head. "Love you," he whispered fiercely as he rocked. "Please don't hate me. I died once with you, don't die again. Please. I love you." He planted another kiss on the top of her head. "Please don't hate me." 

Harry sighed and slid her arms around his chest. He pulled her so close she was almost on his lap. She squirmed uncomfortably--this was an invasion of her personal space!--and contemplated how it felt no differently from being hugged when she had been male. "I don't hate you. I'm just frustrated." 

"I'm sorry." He kissed her again. 

"I'm not used to being a girl, and I'm not used to having men fawn over me like you do." _And stop kissing me._

"I'll try not to fawn too much." 

"I'm not going to be a girl very long, and I don't like men in that way so we couldn't have a relationship like you had with your Harry." 

"I'll live. So long as I'm with you, I'll be okay." 

Harry noticed an absence of various words in that sentence. "You'll be okay, but not happy?" 

"Happiness will come when this is all over and we don't have to worry about Voldemort anymore." 

Harry supposed that would have to do for now. "And what about the other Draco? I know I said you were spoiled and rotten and I hated you, but I really meant him." 

Draco smiled as he rested his cheek against the top of Harry's head. He buried his nose in her hair and took a deep breath. Harry squirmed some more. "I'll smack him around if you want me to." 

Harry thought about that idea. "I'd like to see that. But not now." 

"No." 

"Now we have to go find the others." 

Draco sighed and pressed another kiss on her hair and she tensed again. "I know. Can we wait here for just a few moments though? I like it." 

_ No! I don't want to be held any longer that I can possibly get away with! _"I guess." 

"Do you like it?" 

Truthfully, this close contact with Draco was making Harry feel more than squeamish. There was a funny, but not unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach, compounded by the heat she could feel Draco's body radiating and the hard muscles she felt in his chest, arms, and back. While she knew he was a man now and hardened from his own battles, she had not quite allowed herself to think that he was strong and a young man. The feeling in the pit of her stomach was seeping into other places. She glared down at her chest, where she could feel some things becoming hard. _Damn you, _she thought resentfully._ Why don't you behave like a normal male body and not react to this?_

"I think we better stop," Harry said as she pulled away from Draco. 

He studied her face for a moment, glanced down, and grinned. "I wasn't aware that you were cold," he said mischievously. Harry felt her face turn red and she damned her body again. "Ah, never mind." Draco pressed his lips against her forehead, lingered over it a moment, and then drew back. "Let's go," he said as he stood up. He held his hand out to her, and she accepted it. After Draco pulled her to her feet, they walked out of the hospital wing. 

Harry2 stood on the wall next to the door. "Dumbledore and Riddle went off to exchange information," he said. "Madam Pomfrey decided Francis could stay in the Gryffindor Tower with you and I." He wrinkled his nose. "I'm not sure about Draco, but he can come too." 

Harry glanced sideways at Draco. "Is the password still pumpernickel?" she asked. 

Harry2 looked startled. "No one ever told me anything about passwords!" 

"Hmm. Maybe." Harry hurried down the hallway, all-too-aware of Draco clinging to her footsteps. 

Harry2 rubbed his nose. "They reek of pheromones," he said to no one in particular. Severus materialized behind him. 

"Harry isn't going to be become a boy again any time soon," he said. 

Harry2 jumped forward and whipped around, startled by Severus' appearance. He took a deep breath and clutched at his chest. "Weren't you supposed to be doing something?" he asked coldly. Then, "How do you know?" 

Severus sniffed and said, "I know my nephew and I know Draco." Harry2 rolled his eyes in response. 


	28. Chapter 28 edited 01 02 2004

**ALERT! ALERT! If you had not read the revised chapter 27, please go back and do so. There has been many changes made to it, and some are important in reading and understanding this chapter which, I will freely admit, jumps everywhere. **   
  


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As they neared the Gryffindor Tower, they spied Francis nervously waiting for them beside one of the staircases. He smiled as they approached, and then stepped forward to gently grab Harry's upper arm. "I would like a private word with you," he said to Harry. He turned to Harry2 and Draco. "The password is snickerdoodle." 

"Great," Draco mumbled as he and Harry2 left Harry and Francis. "A cookie!" 

"I'm hungry," Harry2 said to no one in particular. 

"I offered you lasagna, earlier," Harry mumbled. Harry2's head turned slightly, as if he heard her words as he walked away, but he gave no other indication of what she said. 

Francis waited until Draco and Harry2's footsteps had faded away. He nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot until they did, and then regarded Harry with no small amount of trepidation and worry. "Harry," he began, and then stopped. He bit his lip, frowned at a spot on the floor, and tried again. "You're not alone," he said. Harry looked at him in confusion. 

"What?" 

"You said you had to face the dementors and Voldemort and Professor Quirrel, but you don't have to do that anymore." He looked mournfully at Harry, as if miserable that she did not believe he could help, if not protect, her. "We're together in this, and we need to support one another," he said hurriedly when Harry said nothing else. 

"Francis?" 

"Hmm?" He looked at her, waiting and fidgeting nervously. 

Harry sighed. "I think it was the hormones speaking," she said as she rubbed her stomach. 

Francis shook his head slowly. "I don't think it was the hormones' fault," he said. "I'm not sure what you mean exactly by hormones, but I think most of your frustration comes from everything that has been going on." He studied her with a contemplative expression on his face. "I gather you're used to being in control of a situation, or at least your own boss. You've been taking the sideline and when you try to become your own boss again, we won't let you." 

Harry felt anger bubble in her chest and she bit her tongue before she could snap at her great-grandfather. "Telling me I can't just because I'm a girl doesn't sit too well with me," she said testily. "I haven't always been a girl, and I don't intend to be a girl any longer than possible. Not even for the rest of today. I'm used to danger, and while I should probably avoid it, I don't want to fawned over and told to sit in the corner where I'll be safe! This is as much my fight as anyone else's, perhaps even more so." Harry rubbed her eyes. "I don't want to fight," she said tiredly. "But, after all I've been through just to get to this place, here and now, I think I should see it through." 

Francis smiled sympathetically, and he reached out to hug Harry. "And it's my fight as much as yours," he said as he pulled her into a tight hug. "Because I may have helped Voldemort become what he is, and my family--you! You especially, Harry!--suffered for it." 

Harry squirmed uncomfortable and hoped Francis wouldn't start crying and kissing her. She had had more than enough of it from Draco. After a moment, Francis gently pushed her away from him, his hands still on her shoulders. The look of fierce protectiveness took Harry's breath away. This was . . . This was the look of a father who fiercely loved his children and would do anything to protect them. This was the look of a father who was resigned to his children fighting the fight next to him, but was so proud that words could not express the full depth and width. 

And this, Harry realized, was the first time she had ever seen Francis or anyone else look at her in such a way. 

Francis dropped his hands. He looked uncertain, as if he did not know how to express himself. Finally, he dropped his gaze on the floor again. "Harry." He paused, and then looked at her. "Harry, when this is all over, what say you and I go back to Dinsmore and rebuild it?" Francis tugged at one of his sleeves. "I, I can't promise much. But you're not alone. Neither of us are alone," he said with a hint of wonder, as if he had just realized that he, too, had needed someone and had not realized it just then. "We're family, and we have each other." He smiled suddenly, bright and buoyant. "Great-grandfather and great, ah," he looked at Harry, who frowned as she guessed what he was going to say, "great-grandson." Harry felt herself grinning. "But I feel more like an older brother." 

"Nah." Harry waved her hand, feeling exceptionally more light-hearted than before. It was good to know someone still thought of her as male. "An older brother is like Draco: Annoying and bossy. You're more like a father." She smiled at Francis' look of surprise. "And I like being a son." 

"Yes." Francis bobbed his head in agreement. "Yes. Like a son." He looked at Harry, as if assessing her in a new light. He bobbed his head again. "If that's the case--well, I don't know if I should ask you this since you're fifteen and you have your godfather--" Harry's smile disappeared. She wondered how Sirius was doing, if Marcia was taking care of him despite doing something for Cousin Quigley. She had a feeling, deep in the pit of her stomach, that the Sirius in this reality was not going to be a very happy person when he learned about the reality-jumping, his godson being turned into his goddaughter, and who they had brought back. _On the other hand,_ she thought grimly to herself, _as long as no one mentions how Sirius and Severus had that fling going on in that one reality . . . And that other reality where they had a contest of who was going to seduce Harry Potter first . . ._ She shuddered. 

Francis sighed and fiddled with his goggles. "We better go meet up with the others," he said with a tinge of regret in his voice. Harry jerked when she realized he was walking away. 

"Wait, Francis!" Harry hurried over to his side. "Before we join the others, I'd just like to say that, well, I'm going to have a hard time readjusting to the people I know here, after all that we, uh, saw in those reality jumps." Francis' face turned bright red as he recalled some particularly embarrassing scenes. "So I'd like staying with you at Dinsmore when this is all over, like a son." She hunched over without knowing why, feeling just a little embarrassed to be saying this. "As a son," she said hurriedly. 

Francis cheered again. "Yes. When this is all over, we can both live again." He wrapped a comradely arm around her shoulders and they pulled each other down the hallway. 

  
====================   


Harry2 was playing with the flames in the fireplace when Francis and Harry entered the Gryffindor Common room. Draco sat on a couch behind Harry2, watching the flames bounce from Harry2's hands. The fire in the fireplace smoked, but the flames were visible only where they played along Harry2's fingers. Harry stopped and stared in amazement at Harry2. Light reflected in his glasses as he watched, mesmerized. 

Draco clicked his tongue against his teeth. "I've never understood a pyromaniac's fascination with fire," he muttered to himself. "Sure, it's warm, and it's even a cool color at times, but why the fascination? Why the obsession? What makes fire so different from something like, say, lightening? I always thought lightening was more impressive." 

"Could it be," Harry2's eyes flickered from the fire to Draco, "my fascination for fire comes from the fact that I'm a fire demon?" He grinned suddenly and raised his hands to shoulder level as he twisted to face Draco. "But watch!" The fire in his hands began to change different colors. It flared from red to orange to purple and blue, with green dancing in the middle. "Fire is interesting. It's not an element; fire is actually the energy given off in a thermal reaction, either as a result, a by-product, or the catalyst that started the reaction. By controlling the reactions, the amount of oxygen the fire receives, and the heat at which the fire burns, I can change the color and shape of the fire." 

Draco blinked as he watched the flames. "I realize this is going to make me sound very ignorant, but . . ." He scratched his head. "What is a thermal reaction?" 

The fire in Harry2's hands instantly winked out and he dropped his hands to his side. Harry2 curiously studied Draco's face for a moment before he glanced over at Harry and Francis, whose interest had perked at the mention of chemistry. "It's a chemical reaction in which one or more compounds becomes oxidized and the violence of the reaction takes place in friction and heat. What you see, then, is fire." He paused a moment as he thought over what he said. "Or something," he said. "I only got the gist of what Mom was babbling, so some of that may be a bit off." 

Draco scratched his head. "Where did you learn this? And what's oxidized?" 

"Mom was ranting one day on the wizarding concept of elements, and she wanted to know if anyone in the wizarding world--and even the Muggle world--was going to realize that elements were compounds and minerals. Air was merely a gaseous mixture of many different compounds, such as nitrogen and oxygen and carbon dioxide. Earth is many, many other elements and compounds. Water is oxygen and hydrogen. Fire, as I said before, is a reaction. This knowledge, for whatever reason, isn't taught to wizards. I don't know why--probably because science involves strict laws of reality, and magic has the ability to bend the concepts and laws of reality." 

"They're Muggles concepts," Francis said helpfully. "Science, with all its minerals and compounds, that is." Draco looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded his head. 

"I suppose they would be. It sounds like a bit of nonsense to me," he said. 

Harry2 rolled his eyes. "Did you know," he said, "that the wizarding world doesn't believe in life from other planets? At least not life that can travel through the galaxy system, much less the universe. I mean, just because they can't Apparate to the moon doesn't mean that Muggles are can't build machines to carry them to the moon." He twisted around and sat before the fire. "Personally, I've always found it interesting how the Muggles are able to do so much with their science, and the wizards just stayed behind in their little medieval mindset. It takes Muggleborns to introduce new ideas and new 'technology', or at least magic that copies some sort of technology." He hunched over and reached out for the fire. "I'm almost worried," he said to no one in particular as one of the flames wrapped freely around his hand. "According to Mom, this world isn't going to last much longer. Muggles make such advancements that they move on through the Universe, and Mom thinks that the wizarding world stayed behind. Does this mean that magic died out?" 

When his voice died away, the only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the fire. 

"So they just left?" Francis asked before the silence could stretch into awkwardness. 

"They destroyed the world first," Harry2 replied. He poked the burning wood. "There were, well, are, all sorts of factions that warred against one another. Humans who thought animals are like brothers against humans who thought animals had more of a purpose than just looking good. Humans who want to preserve the environment against humans who want to utilize natural resources because we really can't live without them. They sabotaged and destroyed each other and the world because they couldn't get along, couldn't find any compromise. And if the wizarding world doesn't find some way to compromise with the Muggleworld, then I think it's going to destroy them." 

  
====================   


Severus floated in the shadows of the hall. He kept carefully away from sunlight that streamed through the holes in the walls and ceilings. It hadn't been difficult to move through the Floo systems and the underground caverns as a ghost, but to let anyone know that he was no longer "dead," so to speak, then it could mean trouble. 

He blended well in the darkness and waited, listening carefully to his surrounds. Old houses tended to creak and groan, as only old houses had wont to do. The air should smell damp and musty, with a hint of mildew cloying at the edges. Mice in the walls squeaked and pawed their way through. An old house like this was an orchestra of life and sound, and even it no longer had (or was not to have) human occupation. He caught the sound of something rough sliding over the grained wood, and quickly floated to the ceiling and sat cross-legged over it. He frowned as Nagini slithered by, her tongue poking out every few moments to taste the air. She paused directly beneath Severus and twisted her head around. After a moment, she continued on her way. 

Severus regarded the snake for a moment. Was this creature capable of turning into such a beast? Swiftly, he turned his thoughts elsewhere, to different sounds: The soft click of wood against wood; soft, almost discernable words of someone deep in thought. He dropped from the ceiling and floated down the length of the hallway until he reached an open room. The room was hardly impressive, being empty but for a single table with a single chair. On the table was a dusty Muggle chess set. The chubby figure that sat in the chair fumbled with the chess pieces, trying to set up a game to play. Several pawns dropped from his fingers--flesh and silver, the silver hand far more coordinated and graceful than the hand of actual human flesh--and rolled to the edge of the board. 

"Odd," Severus said softly. The figure stiffened. "I had never thought you to be the intellectual one, Peter. Of course, I had never really thought that of any Gryffindor." _Francis aside,_ he thought, although Francis was more of the feather-brained intellect than the sharp wit attested to most Ravenclaws. 

Peter Pettygrew stubbornly pursed his lips together and finished placing the pawns in their places. Under Severus' dark gaze, Peter's trembling slowly ceased and his movement became more sure and steady. "Life is all one large chess game," he said firmly without looking at Severus. He glared at the chess pieces. "Unless you either play or fetch the Master so he can play, leave off." 

Severus floated over to the table, being sure to avoid the thin rays of sunlight that drifted through the small holes in the roof. He seated himself in the air and folded his hands before himself, regarding Peter and ignoring the chess set. "In this great chess game of life, what piece do you suppose you are?" Severus asked. Peter made the first move, shuffling a pawn two spaces ahead and avoiding Snape's gaze. 

"Aren't we all different pieces?" Peter asked. He pointed at the King. "But not every player represents a person. The Kings can't very well take care of themselves, being able to move one block at a single time. These are ideals that must be protected. It doesn't matter if the ideals are good or bad, merely that they rule our lives and dictate our behavior." Snape moved his knight, and Peter responded by moving another pawn. 

"With that attitude, everyone are merely pawns of varying levels to the King," Snape muttered. 

Peter looked up from the game. His eyes were flat and hard. "And that is why we are who we are," he said darkly. 

The room exploded. Severus caught a single look of mingled surprise and resignation on Pettygrew's face as he felt his essence thrown backwards, and then firmly yanked through something solid, into something that existed on more than three dimensions. 

  
====================   


Voldemort looked up from where he was tangling strings of light together in a magical cat's cradle. He tilted his head to the side and smiled listlessly. "Pawns, again?" he asked himself. "How I dislike pseudointellectuals." He spread his hands wide, and the cat's cradle unraveled itself and faded away. He stood up and folded his hands behind his back. "Which does remind me of something I should be doing." He stood up and dusted the back of his robes off in the same manner of someone self-conscious of their appearance. After a moment of thought, he smoothed the front of his robes as well, then turned his back to the smoking rubble that had once been his, well, home could hardly be considered the proper word. 

There was something final about blowing up one's greatest servants and headquarters, but Voldemort had a very definite feeling that he had no more need for those who had dwelt within it. He was no longer going to depend upon those silly humans. He was so close to the power he needed, and with it he could create his own world out of this god-forsaken earth. He would destroy it first, purify it of those unworthy, and then create an Empire. He did not need traitors. 

"You shouldn't have let the boy go, Peter," Voldemort muttered softly, trying to justify what he had done. Truthfully, he did not know why he had destroyed it. It just felt as if it should be done, and while Voldemort was not the sort of man to do whatever he felt should be done, certainly he had no need for the mansion or the servants once he realized his full potential. He gazed across the distance, unaware of how hungry and wanton his expression was, as he felt the power that stood out as a beacon. 

It fluctuated wildly, flaring like a blast and then settling into a crackle, but he could feel it pulsating alive, beyond _that _barrier. It was him, and yet not him, and Voldemort felt a sense of urgency to face this thing, to merge with and become one, because it was it was power, untainted and immensely powerful, but it was not the boy's. This was something foreign, yet wholly familiar. 

He reached out to it hesitatingly. It responded eagerly to his presence though, to his essence, and somehow, that was not surprising. It was _him_, alive, a beacon of the purest light, the foundation of power steady, untainted, and wholly beautiful beyond anything he had ever seen. It was the purest form of chance. But not merely chance-no, this was that chance everyone could control. 

It was the sheer, unadulterated _potential_ that had been violently stripped from him so long ago. It was what destroyed him when he cursed that little brat. This was what he could have been, so long ago, until she sold her own power to tear his own from him. 

And, oh, how very _eager _it responded to his malevolent touch, so easily changed, so vulnerable, so naïve, so very much like him, those fourteen years ago. 

Marcia popped through the end of the tunnel and looked around the bright sunny beach that Harry had Wandered to not very long ago. "Ooh! Prime real estate!" Unlike Harry, however, Marcia wasn't too interested in the bright sunny beach, the forest, the ocean, or the neon-bright flowers (at least, not after she got a rash from trying to pick the first bright-orange blossom she saw). She whipped around and scrambled up and down the beach, and then through the surrounding forest, listening to the sounds of what seemed like crickets, and the many bright-colored birds that flew overheard. "Yooohooooo! Anyone here?" When no one answered, Marcia scrambled monkey-like up the tallest tree she could find, not heeding its emerald green foliage. The bark was firm beneath her fingers, and she quickly glanced over it because she had this odd habit of being utterly fascinated with bugs. She scanned her surroundings and noted some people splashing in the ocean at a far distance from her, and maybe what seemed to be footsteps in the sand (probably just her own though; they looked like size three sneakers with a funny star and swirl tread). 

Maybe she should swim out to those people and ask them some questions. Except she could only doggy paddle at best, and she needed sunblock, her bathing suit, and various float devices to stay above the water. What if there were strong undercurrents? She would be dragged out to sea and-- 

"Yoohoo to yourself," someone called from the bottom of the tree. Marcia looked down, but all she saw were leaves. She eagerly bounced down the branches to the ground and stood before a tall man (most people were tall, considering how Marcia was, uh, vertically challenged, but this man was taller than most people). "How may I help you?" he asked her dryly, scrutinizing her little figure and measuring her with eyes that reminded her all too much of the Lord of Chaos. He had a hooked nose and curiously black, curly hair, and wore wizarding robes. His spoken, "It's not very often when we get a traveler of your caliber to visit Avalon," that made her squirm self-consciously. 

All too aware of a reputation that was probably well-deserving, Marcia schooled her face into a mild, innocent curiosity. "Neh. Mister. This was the end of the tunnel, so can I assume I'm to find Pandora here?" 

The man smiled suddenly, a smile that was more cynical than it was cheerful. "How fitting they would send a creature who doesn't exist in Time to the part of the Universe that doesn't exist in Time." 

Marcia wasn't sure if that was a snub against her, or even how she was to riffle through that twisted logic, so she let it slide without comment. After all, he didn't look particularly weak . . . Or mortal. In fact, if she sort of squinted just so--well, double time. This man was not chance. He was realized potential from birth, a master of his own destiny who could exert that same mastery over the destiny of many whom he came into contact. Well, it was a good thing she was immune to influence. Most of the time. At least, to what one may consider good influence, and that counted as half the influence she would ever come across, yes? "Heeey! You're a druid!" 

The man gave her another cynical smile as he swept into a low bow. "I am Merlin," he said with a hint of pride in his voice. 

Marcia blinked for a moment as she thought of where she heard the name before. 

And thought. And thought. 

And, for good measure, thought some more. "Who?" she asked in a tiny voice. Her reply was a flashed look of annoyance. Well, he wasn't going to kill her, so that meant she had more important matters to attend. She tentatively yanked at his robe and pointed in a random direction. "Can I find Pandora?" 

"Yes. She sits on a rock on the beach edge." He pointed west. "Follow the beach in that direction and you shall find her." 

"Thanks, Mister Druid!" 

The man bowed his head in farewell as Marcia scampered off through the thick underbrush. "They sent a non-wizard," he said with a rueful shake of his head. "Pity. I would have cared to speak with one of my own kind." As much his own kind as he was going to get; Marcia was a headache to be around, being only time and chance herself, but mostly time. She possessed no power and no strength. It was not so much as a non-wizard had been sent, but that _she _had been sent. All the trouble he had chaining the Wild Hunt to the Underworld . . . And this wretch had to release it! Sigh and alas. One of these days, he was going to make the trip to her reality and give her a long speech on why it is a bad thing to release myths of olden days. 

  
====================   


Francis, Harry, Harry2, and Draco all sat together around the fireplace. Francis and Harry2 avidly spoke of various chemical compounds and machines and wires. Harry had enough science in her background to be aware that whatever they spoke of was far too advanced for her to make heads or tails of, and Draco looked bored as he sat, mesmerized with the fire for no other reason than it was being more interesting than the current conversation. Because of his distraction and because of Harry2 and Francis' interest in their subject, Harry was the only one who noticed the Fat Lady's portrait swinging open. She lifted her head from where it rested on folded arms, and saw a swirl of neon-green power flood the room instantly before blazing-hot agony shot through her scar and she doubled over in pain. 

The neon-green power rose up and slammed into Harry like a tidal wave and threw her across the room, hitting the wall with an uncomfortable crunch. Pain shot through the areas in her body that made impact against the wall, and her vision swam with scarlet splashes, as if someone had taken a bucket of red paint and thrown it everywhere. Scar burned, on fire, stop! She felt the pain coursing through her, the power following closely behind and soothing as easily as it, too, burned, a strange meld of torture and comfort. Her skin was melting, pulling, stretching, muscles and sinew contorting, mutating-- 

She stared at the green power and the source of it at the other end of the room, a tint of color around her vision. Riddle stood in the portrait's opening, one hand raised, with the most twisted, ugliest expression she had ever seen on anyone's face. It chilled Harry, even despite the brunt force of his power pinning her against the wall and the fire, burning . . . Draco, just outside the stream, lunged after Riddle, only to be grabbed and held back by Harry2. Despite Harry2's demon strength, Draco still dragged forward, one foot ahead of the other. Francis whipped around Harry2 and steadily pointed his wand at Riddle. 

"What are you doing?" Francis' voice was firm, his face set seriously, and the wand unwaveringly steady. 

Riddle turned his eyes from Harry to Francis, but they weren't really eyes. Just two spots of green that glowed eerily and seemed to pulse in time with the power that held Harry. With a toss of his silver hair, Riddle turned his gaze to Harry. "I'm finishing what I started," he said. "It was what you wanted." His rich voice drew across the power and seemed to tug at Harry's pain, pulling and soothing it, like a cooling slave gently spread over a severe burn. "Unfortunately, there seems to be something rather odd going on with . . ." He didn't finish. Draco threw his weight and strength forward and managed to uproot Harry2 for a stride. 

"-tainted! Son of a bitch!" Draco dragged forward another step as his sword appeared in his hand and he chopped the air with it, as if he could slice Riddle through sheer determination, despite standing more than ten paces away. 

Harry tried to move against the power, but it still pinned her. Pain flared, and she felt a single presence manifest itself, much like a worm that pops out of an apple and chews another hole through a different area. She could feel it burrow through her mind, working from the back to the forefront. A convulsion shook her, and she tasted blood in her mouth and she tried to force the invasion away. "Sssss." _Stop! No! Concentrate! _Keep the presence away. Yes. Look at Riddle. Don't let anything interfere with him. Him. Why? The presence in her mind seemed to hesitate under Riddle's piercing gaze. But she was melting; her skin was melting. She could feel her chest and abdomen on fire. _Why?_ It was beyond the first time her body changed. It was . . . It was . . . 

Baby blue seeped through the stone beneath her, leaked from a source that had been left to remain in the hospital wing. The baby blue washed over Harry, a balm against the pain. It wiggled under the neon green power and folded itself over Harry like a protective blanket. She felt her hand move, and Harry lifted her head to look fully at Riddle. A sense of calm descended upon her, and she floated in it. The manifestation in her mind writhed under the baby blue power with a shriek of pain before it dissolved away. There was a hole in Harry's mind, but the baby blue filled it like a cup, soothing, soft, gentle, and nurturing. 

Riddle's hand extended and she could see the broad surface of his palm, fingers flared wide. She had seen that hand before, and she had been floating then, too, as she was now. She was detached. But had she been floating? She could remember there being pain then too. Pain, and a cold, hard surface surrounded by burning candles. 

Harry's scar prickled as she felt her body begin to fade. 

"Close proximity," Riddle said, soft enough for Harry2 or Francis or Draco to not hear, but Harry understood him. For whatever reason, she heard his voice echo in her mind and knew what words were formed by his lips. "Has an affect. Apparently, I'm not the only one who finds it unpleasant. At least someone watches out for you." A look of puzzlement crossed his face. "Is this how you survived, boy?" Riddle asked. 

Then he was gone, and all Harry could think of were ribbons. 

  
====================   


Harry, in a distinctly male body, stood on a familiar sandy beach, the colors of his surroundings jewel bright. His shoulders and waist felt light and free, to no longer have one's shoulders dragged down by gravity and a quantity of weight. With a wiggle of his toes and a flap of his arms, Harry jumped up and down on the sand. 

And then fell over. 

"Blast it!" Harry stood up and nearly lost his balance again by overcompensating for the now-missing weight on his chest. It took him a few steps on the sand to get the feel of shifting his center of balance before he could address the situation of having a hoop hung from his shoulders. And improper-fitting underwear that rode up uncomfortably. 

With a quick glance around his surroundings, Harry dodged behind a plant with thick foliage that, hopefully, was not poisonous, and rendered himself free of the horrible torture device created by men--er, wait. Well, it had its uses, like keeping uncomfortable bouncing down to a minimum. And it kept him from hyperventilating (or breathing easily, but the point still stood). He looked around for a hole to stuff the underwear, and then decided it was not worth his time. This was Pandora's reality, and he may as well look for her for some time before he stopped Wandering. Maybe she knew what was wrong with Riddle. To be attacked out of nowhere like that--except, except maybe Riddle was actually Voldemort in disguise. But how would Voldemort be able to find them so fast, and why not kill Harry with the Killing Curse instead of doing whatever he was doing? Or maybe the Killing Curse wasn't a good idea because it was what caused this mess from the very beginning. And where had the baby blue power come from? The only place Harry could think it came from was Pandora's Box, except there was always that dark green power to contend with. Had the dark green power merged with Riddle, and that was causing the odd behavior? 

Harry tucked the underwear into a robes pocket and paused a moment to relish being male once more. No more cramps! No more sexist remarks! He would never again have to worry about periods or cramps or breasts that bruised easily. Ha! He was free! And if he got back and his body was still male, then Harry swore to treat women with more respect and never, ever, say, "You can't because you're a woman." 

Marcia crashed into Harry and sent the two of them sprawling head over heels over the sand. Harry sat upright, blinking in confusion and straightening his glasses. Grains of sand stuck to his skin and robes, but he absently brushed them off. Marcia, her own glasses askew on her face, looked at Harry in amazement. "How did you get here?" she asked him in a voice that accused him of pulling an unwelcome prank. 

"I Wandered." Harry shrugged. "It's the same way I got into Harry2's head." 

Marcia blinked in confusion. "Who's this here Harritue?" 

"He's your son." 

Marcia straightened her glasses. "He's Harry?" 

"Yes. He's Harry, too. Just like me," Harry added helpfully when Marcia's expression was still one of puzzlement. 

"Umm." Marcia shook her head, and then0 her lower lip trembled as if she was on the verge of tears. "Can we forget we even had this part of the conversation? Just became very confused." 

"Suits me." Marcia jumped to her feet and then held her hand out to help Harry. Grateful to hold on to something and keep his balance, Harry accepted the hand. Marcia pulled him to his feet, and then hurriedly grabbed his waist as he swayed unsteadily on his feet. 

"Gotta get my balance under control," Harry said as he grabbed Marcia's shoulders. 

Marcia looked at him with a puzzled expression. "So," she began, "do you automatically become a boy when you Wander, or were you changed yet?" 

"I'm--" Harry paused a moment. "I'm not really sure," he said finally. "Maybe I'm just me when I Wander, except I hadn't done it before when I was a girl. Or maybe Riddle was changing me back when I Wandered. I, I don't really know." 

"Oh." Marcia looked uncomfortable for a moment, before she awkwardly patted Harry's elbow. "Well, you can help me find Pandora. Don't know what she looks like, but you do!" 

"Why are you looking for Pandora?" 

"Hmmm?" Marcia stopped looking around and focused on Harry. "Quigley sent me," she replied. "Said I had to get Pandora, and then Merlin said she was around here somewhere." 

Harry looked at Marcia in surprise. "Wait--Merlin?" 

"Oh? Do you know him?" Marcia asked innocently. "The name sounded familiar." 

"He's only the greatest wizard we ever had!" 

"Wizard? And here I thought he was a druid." 

Harry opened his mouth to reply to that, and then recalled how Pandora had said Merlin qualified as a druid because he had two times. He regarded Marcia, whose face was set in expectation of an argument. "No, you're right," Harry said. "Merlin was twice time." 

Marcia smiled, smugly. "S'what I noticed, too." An odd look crossed her face. "How did you know he was twice time?" 

"Pandora told me." 

"That's right! And you said you were going to help me look for her." 

Actually, Harry hadn't said anything about that, but Marcia sprinted down the sand before he could say anything, and it wasn't as if he could have said, "No, I'm not going to help you find my own grandmother." But was it safe to assume that Pandora was near? Harry felt his heart quicken as he hurried after Marcia. Grandmother. It felt good to think that. If Marcia was here for Pandora, that meant Pandora was going to be able to come back to Francis, and then they would be together and Harry would have a family. A family, with a father-figure and a mother-figure! They wouldn't be quite like James or Lily, but they would be there. 

  
====================   


It was a gigantic tapestry, but in reality (which, at this point and time, was questionable at best), it felt so much more. It was suspended in what could be air, and its surroundings were like a distant velvet sky of almost-black purple, with pinpricks of light for every magnificent star whose light had traveled far and long enough to be seen. A distant shooting star arched across the sky, and then faded away. It was such a fragile sight that spoke of how fleeting a single moment could be, how singularly insignificant each life is, but how every one is apart of the sum of a whole. 

And the tapestry hung silently, its ends unraveling because the delicate balance of chance, time, power, and strength could not be held. But the numerous threads that entwined together to make up the tapestry were not truly just strands. Each every one of the strands was a reality manifested. Each single strand, representing reality, was the Universe. It was the fabric of lives, of time, of substance, and the strands were numerous, infinite in their number, and a new strand formed at every moment as the tapestry continued to unravel and fray. 

Severus D. Snape knew this from the first moment he had entered this corner of the Universe, blasted from a room where he was going to play chess. 

"Ah! Excellent!" James Potter scrambled from one end of the tapestry to the other, grabbing handful after handful of the strands of reality and hurriedly tying them together. His efforts to keep the tapestry for unraveling was a losing battle against an upset balance that Severus could not name. "I could use an extra set of hands" Exuberant, James waved his hands at the tapestry, and then nearly tripped over his feet to grab one section that was unraveling more quickly than the others. He tied it with a square knot and hurried down the length. "Come! All you have to do is keep tying the end! We must slow the progress of the Universe's death." 

Severus stared a moment, rubbed his eyes, and then stared some more. "This is the Universe?" 

James did not look up from where he was quickly braiding a rather large handful. "It's the shape of the Universe in a manner that mortals, such as ourselves, can perceive." 

Severus approached the tapestry with a sense of reverence and abounding awe at the immensity of the thing. His eye perceived it to be only so wide and the length of it disappeared into the night sky above, but as he reached a single hand out to it, he suddenly felt immensely little and insignificant. His perception of the tapestry was limited, as if space bent and reoriented itself to compress the infinity of the tapestry into what he could see. He touched a strand, and the jolt of it felt like a bolt of lightening hitting a corporeal living body. Thousands-no, trillions upon trillions upon trillions of lives, of beings, of existence flooded his senses, an overwhelming array of materials and spirits and energy, all bundled up in this single reality. Matter, both organic and inorganic, had a significance all of its own separate self. Every single atom meant something, and infinity existed within a single reality. 

A hand captured his wrist. Draw back! Draw back! 

The voice . . . ! It meant something. It stirred single atoms and transformed and touched and changed. Electricity, so special, so beautiful, traveled along nerve tracks to translate the shifts and transformations of the atoms into a message his brain, these various little cells, could understand. Why had he never before noticed how one is only the sum of the whole, how every little thing was important in the greater part of being? But so much so, did everything mean, wrapped together. Countless, infinite, it was apart of this being, this Universe that encompassed all. The Universe was everything that was, and everything that is, and everything that will be, chance and time and strength and power. It was raw, and yet refined. 

The Universe was a living being, utterly _aware_ of itself; it was aware and felt everything that lived and everything that died and everything that could have been, and Severus was drowning in all of it. The Universe was too big for a single mind to perceive; it was too big for an infinite number of minds to perceive. Had Severus been alive, he would have died from the flooding of some much, simply for touching a single reality. But he was dead, and so he continued to die from so much. This was the true meaning of power. This was what it meant to be a god, to know everything--everything!--and being aware of every single little atom that made up infinity. 

It was not the hand that snagged his wrist that drew him from the center of all. It was not the voice that begged him away from infinity. Severus could have lost himself in the awareness and the meaning, because, oh, the love! The Universe loved everything within itself, every infinitesimal thing that ever would, ever did, ever could and never did exist. There was no rhyme or human reason to any of it, but the love was there, and it was an emotion that gave meaning to every being and every action. 

It was the single drop of water that trailed down a transparent cheek. A single tear, so insignificant, so little, so unimportant, and yet it mattered as much as anything else did. The Universe loved that tear, a single thing in all of infinity within infinity, because_ it meant something. _

Severus Snape, a little gutter rat who once amounted nothing, who could never leave the slums, wept. 

  
====================   


**author's notes:** Well, here it is at last, chapter 28 in all its whole. I admit that it has been a while since the last time I posted, but there has been an important reason for my absence. As some may know, I am now a full-time nursing student, and as finals drew closer, I had to spend more time studying. There is the time constraint. However, I do admit I did have some time, and I admit I spent this time concentrating on my new obsession--Naruto. ^^;; Fanfiction is dear to me, in some ways (most of which are too complex to explain), so I spent some time in the Naruto fanfiction area of ff.net, much to the indignant chagrin of at least one author who received the brunt of my unhappiness concerning their poor writing. (That was a doozy. See in my profile and livejournal link from there to see what degenerated into a grand source of amusement for me. ^_^) Finally, real life beyond my Naruto obsession and nursing classes, which amounts to what witnesses claim to be the most spectacular ski crash they had ever seen (my second run down, too, ;_; on the Saturday just after Thanksgiving). I popped my jaw out of joint (and I still have problems with it now) and tore my ACL--a ligament in my knee that is responsible for proper alignment of the bones and limiting sideways movement of the knee. This will require surgery. This has been my one adventure for the past three months. Well, except for that tangle with the United States Secret Service, but they don't count because it was due to my being on crutches that caused that particular incident.  
  
Anyway, that was for those who were interested in the delay in chapters that concerned my real life. The true delay in the chapters lie, unfortunately, in this troublesome little thing called a writer's block. I was stuck with how on earth I was going to get Peter and then drag him back to Riddle, Francis, and Dumbledore. I could see Peter being questioned and information being gleaned, but beyond that, I was stumped. So, I fell upon an age-old trick of mine. That is to say, I blew up the character who was giving me problems. Needless to say, Peter is dead. This is a shame, because I really wanted to write a chess game between Snape and Pettygrew that would give insight to their philosophies and the individual motivation each had when they joined Voldemort. Peter is one of, if not the most, neglected and abused character in _Harry Potter_, and I wanted to explore his character through this chess game. Alas, t'was not to be! I do plan, one day, to recycle this scene into a short story.   
I will also admit that I feel a little self-conscious of the last scenario in this chapter; the whole spiel on the tapestry, the Universe, and how it felt to be tangled into reality. I feel this is a very powerful scene, but I did not write the justice this scene was due. My sister called it deep, I was also trying to make it beautiful. I don't know if I succeeded, which is why I really want feedback on this chapter. If all you have to say is, "Wow. Just, wow. Dude that was _deep_," then please do so. If you thought, "Ugh. My head hurts. I think it was too confusing and you need to break some of the detailing down and explain a bit more," please oh _please_ do so.  
I suspect the end of the story will not be long in coming. I only have two more chapters to post and the story is done. I mean that. I know I have estimated the story to be within two or three or five chapters before, but this time, I really do mean it. All I have to write about is the destruction of Voldemort and the redemption of the Universe (the first chapter), and the epilogue, which will clear up any remaining questions and put the characters back into their places. You people have been brushing up on X-men, right? All you have to do is see the movie; otherwise, the significance of the end isn't going to be as strong as I would like it. 


	29. Chapter 29

     They found Pandora seated on the rock, a small carpetbag resting on the ground beside the rock. "You're here with not a moment to spare," she said to Marcia as she slid off the rock. She nodded her head in greeting to Harry, who threw his arms around her in a big hug. Pandora looked startled for a moment before she smiled and melted into the hug, placing her own arms around his shoulders and brushing her cheek against his. "And hello to you, my little one," she said softly. 

     Harry drew away from her. "I thought you said you couldn't come home." 

     "Not by my own powers," Pandora replied, "which are none. However, this wild card here can go anywhere and take anyone with her. Cousin Quigley sent her to me; it took him long enough." Pandora bent over and grabbed the carpetbag; she tucked it under her arm and looked at Marcia, waiting. "We must leave, now. Riddle and Voldemort are crossing paths at this very moment, and it's tearing apart the fabric of the universe." She smiled at Harry. "You, my little one, will have to return the same way you left." She dropped the carpetbag and firmly placed both hands upon his chest. "Have a safe trip," she said gently as she pushed Harry backwards. Harry felt his balance give, the ground shift beneath his feet, and then he was falling backwards through a dark hole and Pandora was becoming smaller and smaller. Marcia cheerfully waved him goodbye, and then he were gone. 

     "Shall we go?" Marcia asked Pandora as the old woman picked up her carpetbag. 

     "Lend me your arm," Pandora said as her free hand reached out to Marcia. "Harry misplaced my cane and my leg is too weak for me to walk without its support." 

     Marcia stepped forward and, much to her dismay, discovered she was just the right height for Pandora to lean an elbow on her head. She reached up and grabbed Pandora's upper arm. "Why don't we do this, instead?" Marcia asked. She pulled Pandora with her as she Jumped. "James said he'd meet up with us, 'cause it's been a while since he last saw you." 

     Pandora looked startled at Marcia, her face white with shock. "James doesn't exist though, even in Time." 

     Marcia skidded to a stop. "Neither do I." 

     "But you are the exception to the rule that James isn't." 

     Marcia started at Pandora for a long moment, and then flung an arm out to point in some random direction. "Then what the hell was it that I ran into?" 

----------------------------------- 

     Cousin Quigley pried Severus' fingers free from where they desperately clutched the stand of reality, and dragged him backwards. Severus stumbled and fell, landing heavily against Cousin Quigley's knees. "Still too human to touch the fabric," Cousin Quigley muttered to himself. He watched James struggling to keep things tied together, a losing battle since the great tapestry was unraveling more quickly than he could move his hands to tie and his legs to get to individual places. Already, in several placed, the tapestry had unraveled beyond his reach. 

     "Ah hah!" a voice said behind Cousin Quigley. "I finally found you!" 

     "You're just in time," Cousin Quigley said as he whipped around. "You need to help James keep the tapestry from unraveling." 

     The Bloody Baron froze. "What?" he asked finally. "I know nothing of how to wave a tapestry." And then, as an after-thought as he realized who he was going to be working with, "_That's_ James?" 

     "Once balance is restored, the tapestry will weave its own self back into what it should be. The more it unravels though, the more things become released and reality becomes more unstable. The dead walk, the future plays, and Harry Wanders without guidance." 

     "Oh." The Bloody Baron watched James scramble about, grabbing handful after handful and tying them together in knots and bows. The Bloody Baron drifted into the air and floated over to where the areas of the tapestry had unraveled itself beyond James' reach. He grabbed a handful and tied them securely with a complicated sailor's knot that involved several twists, shakes, and loops. And he did it in two and a half seconds. 

     Cousin Quigley turned back to Severus and shook him on the shoulder. "Severus. Severus. Snap out of it." 

     "There's so much!" Severus bowed his head and wept. "How can one not get lost in it? There's so much! Everything within everything, even the littlest things . . . ?" 

     "Don't bother wrapping your mind around the concept of infinity. It's beyond human comprehension, whether you be dead or alive," Cousin Quigley said gruffly. He pulled at Severus' arms. "Stand. You need to help us maintain as much as balance as we can." 

     "How can you not drown it in all?" 

     "By refusing to acknowledge it." With a grunt, Cousin Quigley pulled Severus to his feet. "Imagine what it must be like to touch that when you're alive, when you have all your senses as sharp as they are meant to be." 

     "Too much." Severus wavered on his feet and rubbed his eyes. "Too much." 

     "You must help." Cousin Quigley took Severus' hand and guided it to one of the strands. "Focus upon the here and now, and there will be no room for anything else." Severus watched his own hand, marveling at how so many cells, miniature worlds unto their own, could make up such a complex organism. "That's right," Cousin Quigley said, "focus upon yourself." And to think, it obeyed the electric signals that his brain generated, through minerals and chemicals and polarity. It seemed ridiculous to him, but somehow it managed to work. 

     Cousin Quigley gentled tangled Severus' hand into the strands of reality; there was a small jolt that ran through Severus as he became hyperaware of his surroundings, how his surroundings and the concept of reality bore down upon him. He could feel his heart pumping, could feel all four valves in his heart open and close. He was aware of every contraction and relaxation of every fiber in his being. And deep in this organism that he was, he felt an awareness wrapped around every cell. He was supposed to be dead, but this was a solid body, or at least the concept of a solid body, and his soul was imbedded in it. He could feel it. As he gradually buried himself in the awareness, the concept of infinity slipped away, and holding the strands no longer affected him as it once did. He was still acutely aware of the reality, but only by the immense love that was infused in each reality. He could no longer differentiate between the little atoms and the great galaxies, but only that a single love held it all together and gave meaning to every insignificant thing that was or was not. 

     Cousin Quigley released Severus' hand and stepped away. Severus basked in the love that reached out to him and, slowly, but quickly gaining momentum as he became used to the feel and the movement, began to braid strand with strand, giving them a base and a steadiness, however temporary that it may be. 

----------------------------------- 

     It occurred to Harry that no one could currently see him. He could feel the impression of standing on uncut grass and the solid earth beneath it as it curved into a hill. At the foot of the hill, rapidly approaching one another with tidal waves of power flowing around them, were Voldemort and Riddle. The power, one neon green and the other a sickly-looking, poisoned and tainted green, wrapped around their respectful owners like protective owners and circled about like wolves searching for a weakness. The air was charged with an electrical current that made Harry's hair stand on end and little blue sparks bounce off his nose. 

     Harry stood behind Harry2 and Draco, both seated in the long grass and well-disguised by the blending of their surroundings with the caramel and brown tones of their clothes. Harry didn't know how his companions managed to change clothes, but had a nagging feeling some transfiguration was involved. Neither seemed to notice or feel Harry; he had a suspicion that he was somehow Wandering in his own reality. 

     Harry2, chewing on a blade of grass, grinned and pointed. "Riddle and Voldemort are going head-on. Bets on who will win?" 

     Draco shivered as the ground beneath them shook. "My money is on the one who hasn't bumped noses with the boy who lived and came away scathed because of it. Something that has never been broken or scared is generally stronger." 

     "Ah, but something that is broken can be made stronger so it won't be broken a second time." 

     Draco shook his head. "Nah. Nothing broken is ever quite the same as strong as it once was. There is always the impression that it was weak once and it can be weak again. Why do you think Voldemort was always trying to kill you? Because you happen to represent that weakness." 

     Harry2's eyes widened in mock-surprise. "And here I thought it was because I'm a third-class demonling!" 

     "Third class? That's pretty bad." 

     "No. That's good. Demons are classed according to their power, with first-class demons having god-like powers and being just second to the Lord of Chaos. Mom says she's met some, but I don't know anyone that powerful. Unless it's Aunt Patches, but there's something odd about her and not because she's a demon. And fifth-class demons can be beaten by humans who have the strength, skill, and experience. Except those kinds of humans aren't common." 

     "So you sit in the middle?" 

     Harry2 shrugged. "Suits me fine. I'm strong enough that others won't bother me, but weak enough that I'm not considered a threat by second and first-class demons. See, the power that those two have, that's a lot of power. It's equal to a third-class demon, I think. I know I'd have a serious problem if Voldemort ever unleashed his full strength against me, and the only reason why I managed to get away so far is 'cause he always underestimates me. So I'm going to join the fight when it's time for my dragon." 

     Harry glanced at Harry2's arm. The dragon's red eyes were flared open, and Harry2's sleeve material was singed brown and smoking. The ground beneath them trembled again. Harry thought he saw a blurring and splitting of the landscape, and the scene seemed to twist and distort itself as if being seen through warped metal or shattered glass. Time stopped for a moment and there was a sudden, rushing feeling of vertigo. He rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses and both the feeling and distortion of vision disappeared. The rubbing caused little afterimages of color that darted in his vision though. At least, that was what Harry thought and hoped those fleeting, shapeless blobs of blue and black were. 

     The two figures stopped moving, and stood apart by a hundred yards. They seemed to measure each other up over the distance, and the power lay over the ground, boiling like a rolling fog as the tendrils reached upward and faded, twisting and calm, but still alive. Again, there was a splitting of images, and Harry rubbed his eyes again in annoyance. "What a time to get philosophical," Harry muttered in reference to Harry2 and Draco's conversation. 

     "Ganging up, are we?" Draco asked Harry2. 

     Harry2 snorted. "All is fair in love and war," he said. "Voldemort's just lucky I don't have a cricket to aim at the general vicinity he stands in." 

     "A cricket? What's the cricket going to do? Chirp him to death?" 

     "Blow him up. And probably a good chunk of the Scottish countryside as well." 

     Draco's eyebrows shot up to the once-white hair band that kept the hair out of his face. "A little bug can do that?" 

     "It's a gun." 

     Draco cocked his head to the side and looked intrigued as he rubbed an ear. "A Muggle invention, eh?" 

     "Muggles are very good with inventing various ways in which to blow each other up." 

     Harry squinted into the distance. He could not see Dumbledore or Francis around, but he knew they had to be near. Was that a pack of dogs he saw, streaking and flowing over the countryside like liquid? And what was the gigantic horned thing following closely behind on a horse? 

     Harry suddenly realized that, just maybe, it wasn't such a good idea to be around when Voldemort and Riddle fought. Colors in his vision melted away, until everything was stone gray of varying shades and lines. To have two of the same people, whose abilities was firstly time, to clash together in a small area was going to rip the fabric of reality--it was a chilling feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach when Harry realized this. "Maybe you two should leave," Harry said as he felt a tug around his waist. 

     The lines that represented Harry2 turned about and said, "But, Harry, the party's just beginning!" 

     At that moment, power between the two figures erupted upward like a sprouting geyser. The powers clashed, sparks flew and swirled, and pain flared in Harry's agony just as he slipped backwards. 

     Harry2 squinted his eyes and grunted as the scar on his forehead flared red. Other flashes of color burst wherever bare skin was. Draco reached a hand out to him and opened his mouth to inquire after Harry2's health, but his arm passed through Harry2. Draco stared in surprise as Harry2 yelped and was abruptly yanked into the ground by an unforeseen force. Draco stared at the ground for a moment, and then sat backwards with a thump. "Just how am I supposed to react to that?" he asked no one in particular. 

     With no answer forthcoming, Draco pulled a sword from out of the confines of his robes and slowly made his way down the hill and around Voldemort. Above his head, a rolling, convoluted ball of sickly green power twisted and pulsed from an inner light. A mist of baby-blue floated closely beside it. The two powers rotated around each other like revolving moons before plunging through the fabric of the Universe, leaving a gaping hole of Chance behind. 

     In the distance, a hound's baling cry rose over the countryside. 

----------------------------------- 

     In the tunnel of crackling energies, Marcia skidded to a halt, nearly pulling Pandora off-balance. She shivered. "I feel like someone sealed my doom," she muttered with a twitching eyebrow as Pandora pressed her hand to her chest and gasped for air. Marcia looked at her. "Do you need some rest?" she asked politely. 

     Pandora leaned against the wall. "Just--just for a moment," she said as her other hand absently dropped down and rubbed her left leg, which ached terribly. "I'm too old for this." 

     "Hmm." Marcia rolled her eyes as she looked around the tunnel. Again, she shivered and rubbed her upper arms through their sleeves. "I feel like something is coming." 

     "You ought to," Pandora said sternly, "since you were the one who released the Wild Hunt and weakened the bonds throughout the Universe." 

     Marcia barely paid Pandora any attention. "T'was Ron's fault," she said automatically. After a moment, she grabbed Pandora's hand and tugged. "Come on," she said, hurrying down the hall. Pandora stumbled after her, more dragging the left leg than walking on it. Through the cavern they ran, and a dark figure was barreling after them. Marcia skidded to a halt and pressed herself to the side of the tunnel just as Harry2 barged past. "Harry?" 

     Harry2 glanced over his shoulder. "Might not want to head that way, Mom!" he yelled. "Something dark this way comes!" 

     Marcia squinted after him. "Is he sprouting bad poetry again?" she wondered. Pandora suddenly gripped her upper arm. 

     "Something dark this way does come," Pandora said as horror flashed across her face. 

     "Hmm?" Marcia tilted her head and looked down the length of the tunnel. Nothing so much different than from the last time she came through. It was still made up of various energies, still a parting through matter, a full space of nothing enclosed between realities that led to the center of the Universe, and the flooding of deadly Chaos that would soon overwhelm her and Pandora . . . Uhoh! 

     Marcia grabbed Pandora's arm and pulled her along as they Jumped through the walls of energy. "That wasn't there the last time!" Marcia said through gritted teeth. "I wanna know what's going on!" 

     "Raw potential is fighting with Destiny, and Chance is going to win, but for the fact chance is the most unpredictable element," Pandora replied just before they crashed into a large, unraveling Tapestry. 

----------------------------------- 

     Harry was running through flashes of scenes, past realities and through time and space. What did that single scene of a little girl with large brown eyes and bouncy almond-brown curls, grasping a cocker spaniel pup by the scruff of its neck mean? She stood in the middle of a room on a hard-wood floor of black chestnut, her pert little mouth trembling as tears welled up in her eyes. Each detail was etched into his mind, burned into his cortex with no reason for being seen. 

     Why did he see a woman, her red-blond hair pulled half-back and bent over a keyboard, a black-haired gerbil with a crooked tail perched on her shoulder, typing fiercely as she watched a computer screen? 

     What was the purpose of the smooth-as-glass lake of black water resting at the foot of fire-scoured mountains, where once healthy forests were now black, dead, and ashes? Scene after scene, each one confusing, each one just a fraction of a single scene of a single person or single creature's life, mixed in the whole of the Universe. But this was what he was trying to save, wasn't it? 

     Harry felt something solid beneath his feet as he ran, compelled by some unforeseen and unknown force, but his eyes only told him he ran on fog, mist or air, pending upon what sort of scene he ran through. There was a sense of urgency from the compulsion to run and run, because something was chasing him. A malevolent spirit forced Harry on, and he could not escape the feeling that if he did not run, he was never going to see the end of his flight. 

     He stumbled as a jolt ran through his body. He was suddenly in a train corridor and the people milling about did not see him. He looked down at his body as an uncomprehending elderly man in a fedora walked through him. Harry was not transparent, but his hands were so small. He looked at the child who stood beside a window, and realized that he had shrunk. A quick look back at his hands--no, he had not shrunk; he was eleven years old again. The feeling of compulsion was gone and he was no longer running through fleeting, random scenes that, on a whole, made no sense to him. 

     Confused, Harry slowly walked through the train, glancing at people. How strange it was from the scenes he had run through. They were fleeting, mortal, fragile and now gone forever. Here, the scene was blurry and the people's faces were smooth and featureless. Details he could have understand slipped from his vision and from his understanding like water through parted fingers. Disconcerted, Harry walked down the aisle of the train, wincing every time he stepped through a person or a person stepped through him. He glanced from face to face, but the details ran together or slipped away. 

     He glanced over his shoulder. At the far end, colors bled together and faded into a stone gray. Like water running down a hill, the stone-gray slowly seeped into his surroundings, leaking into people and rendering them immobile. What had once been humans were now stone statues of faceless, human-shaped creatures. Harry looked to the front and stepped through one of the stone statues that stood before him. There was a brief shiver that ran down the length of his spine, and he stopped suddenly. 

    There was an island of color in one of the seats; a thin-faced woman with shoulder-length light brown hair looked at Harry with wide eyes. He could see her features and see her chest move as she took a deep breath in surprise. She didn't seem to notice the surroundings as he did, but he knew, as he looked into her eyes, that she could see him. With a hitch of his breath, urgency exploded in Harry's mind and he whipped around to flee. He ran through the stone statue, and suddenly the train was gone, and he was once more running through emptiness with rectangular-shaped fleeting pictures that whirled past him, dancing and turning and revolving like spinning doors. No longer did they leave such an impression on Harry, their details stark and clear as the high noon sun in a cloudless sky, but he knew them and remembered them still. On he continued to run, compelled forward by a sense of urgency, a sense of danger, and something more. 

     And behind him on the train, JK Rowling was fiercely thinking of the fully-fleshed character with the lightening-shaped scar. 

----------------------------------- 

     Draco kept his head low as he crawled/weaved across the countryside, his trek through the long grass like a zig-zagging snake. He kept his sword tucked beneath one arm, the blade turned down and one hand firmly gripping the pommel. He stopped now and then to kneel upright to look at Voldemort and Riddle. Neither had moved, but the powers that surrounded them had twisted and woven themselves from rolling clouds into lightening bolts that shot sideways. The range of the lightening bolts were small, but gradually getting longer. Draco had no idea what would happen if he were struck by one of the stray bolts, but he was carefully trying to work his way outside the range, but still within a good reach for an attack. 

     There was no place in this fight for him. He had tried grabbing his wand, but the moment his hand touched the pommel, the wand had burst into sparks that burned and blistered his skin when the two came into contact. Magic, no matter how powerful the two wizards or witches who faced off together, should not do this to surrounding persons. As far as Draco knew, Grindlewald and Dumbledore, when they had fought, had leveled the countryside, but he had never heard of their power clashing and tearing through reality, and it was common opinion that Dumbledore, even in his great age, had been strong enough to intimidate Voldemort even at the height of the Dark Lord's power. That had to account for something. 

     Still, Draco wasn't going to discount the fact that the two persons fighting were, for all intents and purposes, the same. And given the circumstances of how everything he and his companions had done so far--jumping through realities, meeting counterpart after counterpart after counterpart, seeing the future and knowing the past--were exceptions to the vague rules of wizarding magic, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised with how volatile were Voldemort and Riddle together. 

     And if he could just figure out where that blasted yipping, howling, barking, and baling was coming from, he'd feel a little more at ease. Draco not was a particularly great fan of dogs. He always found them to be boorish brutes with a great lot of fur, tail, teeth, and tongue. As such, he did his best to avoid such creatures. But the baying hounds he heard were random and unusual. Sometimes they sounded close, almost as if they were on top of him, and other times they sounded so faint that he might have imagined it. But somehow, dogs were present, and Draco visibly searched the countryside for them and saw neither hide nor hair. 

     He made his way down the hill and over the countryside to a hollow he and Harry2 and noticed earlier. It dipped lower than the rest of the countryside and seemed to curve inward, like a small cave. Just as he was within slithering reach of the hollow, hail the size of his clenched fists began to drop out of the clear sky. With an indignant yelp, Draco scrambled for the hollow. He slipped off the edge and fell six feet onto his back. A hand reached out from the dark of the hollow and pulled him in. 

     "Hullo," Francis said amiably. "Where's Harry? I last saw him with you." 

     Draco stared at Francis for a moment as he reoriented himself to his darker surroundings. "Why are you wearing that?" Draco asked finally, reaching out to poke the World War II-isque helmet that was covered Francis' head, the chinstrap firmly in place. Francis' goggles were pulled over his thick glasses, magnifying his eyes to give him Trelawney-like buggy eyes. 

     Francis fidgeted with his goggles and chinstrap. "A body can get a concussion if he wandered out into that hail," he said finally as a fierce gust of wind blew aforementioned hail into their hollow, irregardless of the fact that he must have been wearing the helmet before the hail had begun to fall. 

     Draco pressed his back against the wall beside Francis until the wind subsided. He relaxed slightly. "Harry just disappeared into the ground. Er, the fire Harry. Dunno what happened to him though, or if I should be worried. I am, worried that is, except I don't know what I can do about it." He collapsed his hands together to think, but winced as one of the blisters popped. "Grabbing my wand gives me blisters." He lifted his hands and looked critically at the skin along the back. In the places where the sparks had struck him were painful blood-filled blisters the size of a galleon, except the one he had accidently popped; oily-looking blood oozed down the back of his hand. 

     Francis nodded his head as he dug a some-what clean handkerchief from his pocket. He held it out to Draco, who took it and pressed it against the back of his hand. The wind blew again, and a hailstone bounced off his helmet with a loud clang. Francis' expression or posture never changed; it was as if he barely registered his surroundings at all. There was a blankness of his face and an emptiness in his eyes, his self drawn so far back from reality that he was merely a puppet reacting to his rapidly-changing environment. 

     "Is it just those two, or is power supposed to react like that?" Draco asked with a vague wave toward the direction of where he was sure Voldemort and Riddle stood. He could not see them because of the rise of land before his line of vision. 

     There was a long moment of silence as Francis slowly glanced toward the opening of the hollow, and then back to Draco. "That is the result of two different realities coming face-to-face," Francis replied lightly. "It's sort of like two trains on the same track heading opposite directions. Because of the various characteristics of two powerful beings fighting one another . . ." Francis' voice trailed off for a second, and then he shrugged, a mild expression still on his face. "Well, we never said it was going to be pretty." Another hailstone bounced off his helmet with another loud clang. 

    "Any suggestion for what we should do?" Draco asked as he clutched his sword close to his breast. "We can't use magic against Riddle or Voldemort, and while I'll admit I tend to be a tad, er, frisky with death, I'm not stupid enough to charge 'em with my sword." 

     Francis smiled and held up a finger. "I propose we wait until one of them dies, and then attack the one left standing if it's Voldemort." 

     Draco studied Francis' face with a suspicious frown. "You seem to be awfully mild about this entire event." 

     Francis' brow creased in thought as his head tilted forward and he touched his chin against his chest. There was a flash of light through his eyes, and then it was gone and his eyes were empty once more. He looked up at Draco with a good-natured grin. "I can't find it in myself to be anything but mild. I don't feel panicky, lost, depressed, or excited. I'm just sort of warm and fuzzy. I suppose I should be worried about that, as well, and about Harry, but I don't feel it. I can't." His features shifted. For a moment, as Draco started at him, there was an elongation of the neck and a narrowing of the face as the nose shifted forward into a beak-like shape. Draco rubbed his eyes and squinted. Francis' features were human; nothing had changed except he was now looking at Draco with a smatter of puzzlement. 

     Draco mentally ran through what he was feeling. He felt excitement over the fight, anger directed to both Voldemort and Riddle, fear for both Harrys, and puzzlement over Francis' emotions-and that odd shifting. It couldn't have been his imagination anymore than the dogs could be. He didn't think his feelings were different from how he would feel any other time. "Do you suppose the magic is affecting you?" Draco asked cautiously. 

     Francis shrugged and craned his neck to see over the rise of land. "I feel like I'm in my egg again, safe and content. I would propose it is a side affect of being swallowed by a phoenix. On the other hand, I speculate it's also a response of finally! No more Jumping or traveling or worrying about the outcome. The moment is here and now at hand, and whatever the outcome, this will be all over. Harry and I can finally move on with our lives, not worrying about if the past will cause inference again." He smiled, full of relief and relaxation. "It's at hand," he said softly. He unconsciously tightened his hands into fists as his eyes glimmered. "And we can move on." 

     Draco studied Francis for a moment, and then looked away. He slumped over his sword. "Yeah; all move on," he said with the hint of a bitter question in his voice. 

     In the distance, hounds bayed as if they had caught their scent. 

----------------------------------- 

     Harry2 had never considered it was possible for him to be in someone else's mind; it wasn't so much as he did not understand the images that flew past him in a dizzy circle of someone constantly obsessing over a single thought or memory, turning it over and over to look at different angles, and feeling the frustration, anger, depression, sorrow, and something that bordered closely on insanity--no, it was the fact that he understood with a frightful clarity of what whose mind he existed in, and the entire background behind the thought. 

     Sirius Black fell through a curtain. The frantic image was played over and over, like a broken recorder that played until it reached a hitch, which forced it back to the start. Harry2 watched and pondered silently. The thick violet of sorrow hung like a shroud in the mind, covering the memory with purple shadows. Somehow, it felt like a puzzle piece that did not fit into the great, grand scheme of things. 

     One thing was certain, and that was this Harry Potter needed Sirius Black more than any other Harry Potter Harry2 had come across (well; as far as he knew, at least, considering how little he knew of the other Harry Potters beyond their love lives and sexual preferences). And whenever he thought of how this Harry needed Sirius, Harry2 recalled a Sirius in need of Harry. He would have to ask Marcia how well Sirius the Egg was doing when she left. Between this Harry's sorrow and that Sirius' misery, the two were of a kind and just right for one another. 

     And with that decided, now all Harry2 had to do was find some way to get out of this reality. He had tried to leave earlier, but the shielding around the mind was too strong for him to break through without causing psychological damage to both of them. Since that was something he would prefer avoiding, he needed Harry Potter to lower the shielding and let him slip through. (Of course, that demanded the question of how he even managed to arrive in the mind in the first place, and Harry2 had no idea.) 

     He poked the memory. It blipped out of existence as awareness rushed forward and surrounded Harry2. A mind, sharp with anger and suspicion, poised on the edge of slamming its strength against him. 

    _ Woooe. Hold on now. I'm you._

     There was a long pause, and then, cautiously, _Come again?_

    _I know this sounds highly improvable, but I'm you from an entirely different reality. _

     The curiousness melted away and the anger and suspicion, honed into the form of a sharp knife, hurled at him. 

    _ Yipe!_ Harry2 threw out his own memory of fighting Fawkes as Severus and Harry gawked at him from below. The suspicion paused in mid-jerk, hovering once more on the edge as the mind puzzled over this. It flowed backwards like a wary snake pulling away from the attack and looking once more at the target. Harry2 pushed another memory forward; this one of Marcia, Harry, and Harry2 all seated in the kitchen, eating pizza and discussing realities. The mind drew back even further as the suspicion became tinged with puzzlement. Harry2 gave him the memory of Tom Riddle, laying prone on the hospital bed, hair almost a pure silver. This last one the other Harry puzzled over, turning it sideways and upside down. But when Harry2 handed over the memory of Sirius constantly clinging to Harry, the other one latched hungrily upon it, sorrow and wistfulness clutching desperately for this single glimpse of someone who was dear and precious. 

    _ Now, _thought Harry2 to himself, far from the prying mind of the other Harry, _just how do I get out of this mess? _

----------------------------------- 

     The floor shuddered. Pandora threw her arms around Marcia's shoulders and leaned heavily against her until the shuddering-like earthquakes passed. James and Severus both hardly appeared to be affected by it. Their attention was solely upon tying the unraveling strands of reality. Marcia had tried to poke at one strand earlier, just to see what it did, and nearly lost her hand when the Bloody Baron took an unprecedented swipe at her with his sword. She now stood about in her undershirt because she and Pandora had to her overshirt to staunch the bleeding and then bind the deep gash that lay across her wrist 

     Cousin Quigley appeared almost immediately after the earthquake. "Don't touch," he told Marcia in a cold voice that broached no argument. "You do not exist, and that's hardly stabilizing without your wreaking havoc directly upon the Universe's structure." 

     "Mmm." Marcia glared at him from behind her glasses as she squeezed a handful of her shirt and blood dripped from it onto the floor with a soft pitter-patter. Cousin Quigley blanched before turning slightly green. "Nice if I'd actually been warned." She bunched her other hand into a fist and rubbed it down the length of her arm from elbow crook to wrist. Cousin Quigley watched her for a moment. "Why do you do that?" he asked finally. 

     Marcia turned her back to Cousin Quigley in disgust and slipped under Pandora's hold. "The muscles are severed and they rolled backwards like a rubber band. Gotta keep them straight if I want to heal." She muttered several expletives under her voice concerning the Bloody Baron, his sexual tastes, and his parentage, and then wandered off to watch James weaving a pattern with his strands. 

     Pandora reached out and grabbed Cousin Quigley's selves. She leaned against him for support. "I would much rather she was kept in a whole piece," Pandora said just loud enough for the Bloody Baron, who floated near by, "if she hasn't the strength, then I can't get back to Francis and Harry." 

     Cousin Quigley patted Pandora's hand with the awkward habit of someone trying to be a comfort that they were unsure of being. "You're not needed there just yet." 

     "The Wild Hunt has nearly found its way to their reality, though." 

     "Nearly, yes, but it has not yet quite arrived. We still have time." An expression of stubbornness set Cousin Quigley's face, an expression as foreign to him as a corporeal James bounding to and fro along the bottom of the tapestry. 

----------------------------------- 

     The path that Harry walked on looked like a stony pathway carved from a mountainside. It wound around and around the barren peak, reaching upward into dizzying heights obscured by charcoal-gray clouds. He clung to it, crawling on his hands and knees. Blasts of wind buffeted him against the side of the peak and threatened to rip him free of the path and into the great blackness far below. Minute after minute passed. Hour after hour. Time? What was this thing called time that people talked about? He had no concept of it. An hour could be a minute. A minute could be a day. A day could be a second. A second could be a year. 

     With each blast of wind that pounded him against the rocky interface, with each gust that nearly swept him from his precarious perch, Harry felt something wear away from him. Whether it was strength or magic or memory, Harry could feel himself slowly being torn apart. Some vicious force in the wind snatched the pieces of him away, but all he could do was crawl upward on the path. He looked at his hands, knew they were hands, saw that his fingernails were ripped away and his skin torn and bloody, but he didn't understand how they belonged to him. With a sense of desperation and the feeling that time (whatever that was; all he knew was that he didn't have any) was slipping away for the nameless faces that urged him onward. 

     Blood dripped in his vision, blurring it and smeared against his glasses, but he hardly noticed. He barely felt the change when it came, the shifting of flesh and anatomy, and he was no longer Harry Potter the Boy Who Lived, but instead was the Girl Who Struggled. Her hands looked smaller than usual, and the weight of her chest was countered only by the heavy weight on her shoulders. If someone had said Harry carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, then certainly Harry would have to agree--aside from the weight of the world on his shoulders, but there was also the weight of two moons on his chest to contend with. 

----------------------------------- 

     The barking and howling was closer. Draco's eyes were busy, surveying what surroundings he could see. He clutched his sword close to himself, his body as tense and coiled as a twisted rubber band that threatened to break from being stretched too tightly. He did not notice Francis beside him, who gasped desperately for air and wiped away the sweat that dripped down his face. Several times, Francis took his goggles and glasses off to wipe pools of moisture from them. Neither of them noticed the shifting bones in Francis' hands and face, the wavering between hair and feathers. 

     Beyond their line of vision, colors coiled around Tom Riddle and Voldemort as their powers clashed and fought to overwhelm the other. One single line of color wrapped around Voldemort in the form of a chain, disappearing into his spinal cord like a machine's power cord or attachment, a tie to something that extended beyond him. It was his lifeline, and the other end of it was buried into Harry Potter's skull, directly where the scar in his forehead was. Harry struggled against it as power drained from it to Voldemort, struggled up the rocky pathway that led to hope and freedom, fingers bloody, the female form back once more. Where male Harry could not succeed, female Harry could. 

     This was why the Universe planted the idea of Harry being a woman in Francis' mind. 

     There was power in women, for theirs was to ability in life to give life, in a way no man could. But man is also responsible for giving life, for life was created only when the forces of man and woman met, to create a child. And in Harry was both forces, granting Harry the ability to bestow the life that he had been doomed to never have from the very beginning the Universe made him in the very first reality to counter the poison that was Voldemort. 

     All other chains of color that buried themselves within his spinal cord were ghostly forms, less substantial but all existing on similar grounds. Behind him, the shades of Harry Potter in his many forms and different counterparts, stood behind him, heads bowed in subjection and the chains attached to their foreheads black with disease. One odd figure stood apart, distant from the others because of the duo-nature represented by the dark outline of Harry Potter and his twisting shadow of brilliant white flames. The chain was attached to his forehead as it was with others, but this chain glowed white-hot, the links already misshapen from the heat and beginning to stretch and melt. 

     Tom Riddle clutched at his own power line, a single cord of baby blue that was buried in his chest and wrapped around his heart. It was tied to the hearts of Harry Potter, now a woman, and Harry Potter the fire demon. He fed power through the lines to them, and the lines were strengthened as the baby blue wrapped itself around it as a protective layering. Another line was growing from his heart and slithering across the surface. A bolt of tainted magic from Voldemort at the line caused Riddle to reel back in pain. The due-shadow of Harry winced and nearly collapsed, but Harry the woman relentlessly continued her crawling without pause, stubbornly ignoring her environment. The line reared up and struck at Voldemort's heart. He winced and his hand shook with a convulsion. 

     One chain cracked, glowed baby blue, and then broke free. Another line from Riddle's heart struck at Voldemort's. Another chain broke free. Power and life behind the chains began to unravel and disappear. The lines from Riddle to Voldemort bled through his chest cavity to the other side. They leapt over and snatched at the chains, feeding life and support. Riddle felt a little more of his own power and life bleed away. 

----------------------------------- 

     Harry2 grabbed onto Harry as the moody adolescent swayed on his feet. A foreign cunning entered Harry's mind, clawing and tearing like a rabid beast struggling to free itself from a trap. It caught scent of Harry2, and howled as it tore after him, reaping damage unto the mind. There was a sour, rotten taste from the cunning, a prevailing sickness that needed to be cut away and burned. The cunning rose upward, twisting and shaping itself into a king cobra snake. Its hood opened wide and the fangs dripped with poison as it considered Harry2. 

     Harry2 hissed as he crouched down and arched his back like an angry cat, allowing his fire, that small pit of warmth in the pit of his stomach and the recesses of his mind, burst forth in a raging inferno. Heat waves danced off his skin and the blood that ran through his arteries and veins was hot enough to melt lava. His hair began to rise upward, and color flickered through it before it transformed into waving flames. Flowing from the pit of his stomach the power came to his call, runes appearing and glowing on his skin. The lightening-shaped scar on his forehead turned white while the runes became a gleaming red. "Stay back," he hissed at the cunning-snake. "Stay back." 

     The snake chuckled. "Whatever you may be," Voldemort's voice said, "do you think you can do anything?" 

     Harry2 smiled viciously, a smile that would have made the hair on the back of Marcia's neck rise on end and make her dive for the fission bomb shelter. He pulled back his power, feeling it fight against his force, bucking against his hold and yanking at the leash. "And you can stop me?" he asked softly, dangerously. 

     The snake laughed as it lifted higher in the air. "I have your blood, now. You can no longer be the death of me!" 

     Harry2 shrank down a little more, drawing back himself. "Oh?" His voice was almost too soft to hear as he released the first shield on the Black Dragon. It glowed as its form twisted on the back of his arm. It peeled itself from his skin, rising upward like the cunning-snake did. Harry2 looked up as a curtain of baby blue settled around them, shielding the other Harry. "Ah." He smiled once more at the cunning-snake, and then unleashed a firestorm upon the cunning-snake as the Black Dragon slammed into the link Voldemort and Harry shared, snapping it in half before burning Voldemort from the inside-out. 

----------------------------------- 

    Another chain snapped, and another link formed between Tom Riddle and the Universe's original Harry Potter in another reality. 

----------------------------------- 

    Francis gasped for breath as Draco scrambled out of the hollow and nearly ran headlong into the Wild Hunt as it finally burst through the curtain between realities. Instantly, he whipped about on his heel and hurried off into the distance. The Wild Hunt shrieked in triumph and gave chase. 

----------------------------------- 

     Harry stood finally at the pinnacle, clinging desperately to the little point at the very top while the winds tore her clothes to shreds. She had long lost her glasses, and her skin was burned raw from the wind. She stared into the great black abyss that stretched out below her for infinity upon infinity, the great realm that was the Universe and all that existed within it. The path was gone. This was where she was meant to be, where she was wanted. Harry pushed herself up, and managed to stand and stare into the face of the Universe before wind smashed into her back and hurled her off the pinnacle. Into the darkness she plummeted, falling at a speed beyond measure. Lines of life and hope snatched at her, and she gave birth to a new chance for survival. With the chance to survive, it finally had the strength to exist without clinging to the one Tom Marvelo Riddle who would not leech it for its potential. With each ability to exist, the lines faded away and Riddle's own existence became strengthened as he recovered that little piece of himself. 

----------------------------------- 

     Pandora's Box, its lid open as baby-blue power flowed from it, shattered as it exploded from the inside and Pandora Potter's own magic was finally free, rising upward to capture and protect her loved ones. Over the shattered pieces, the ghost of Oliver Potter hovered. "Free," he said. "The family curse has come around full-circle." Little Jonathon appeared beside him and buried his face in his father's trousered leg. 

     "Free," the little boy echoed. Anne reached out and hugged both husband and son close to herself. 

----------------------------------- 

     James stopped in mid-tangle. He slowly stepped back from the great tapestry. Slowly, its strands began to weave themselves together once more, as stability and life flooded through the Universe. He smiled over his shoulder at Pandora. "I'm free," he said to her. "Free. Tell Harry I love him." And then he was gone without another word. 

----------------------------------- 

     Over and over, like an endless cycle of change, the lives of Harry Potter, sentenced to death by the Universe so it, too, could survive, were given back the chance to exist. They broke free of Voldemort, clung and sapped Time from Riddle, and then received their own Chance from the man/woman Harry. 

    She plummeted faster and faster with no one to catch her. 

----------------------------------- 

     Pandora gasped as her magic came rushing back. Only a droplet had existed after the attack upon Voldemort, and even that was gone after her Jump. Like a scarred, empty vessel, there had always been the morose and longing for that which was gone. It came rushing forth to fill her, power spilling over at the edges and touching everything in that area, like a mother's love that soothed and comforted. 

     Cousin Quigley sighed as peace filled him for the first time since his son was born. 

     Marcia stopped in mid-stride and stared at her hand, where the muscles and tendons had been healed and a pink scar was now all that existed of the Bloody Baron's attack on her. 

     Severus Snape sagged against the threads of the Universe and wept once more. 

     The Bloody Baron stopped moving and stared off into the distance without focusing on his surroundings as a happier time came to him, of the rise and fall of waves beneath his wooden deck, the salt in the air, and the tangible sweetness of freedom. 

----------------------------------- 

     Francis dug his fingers into the dirt as he leaned forward and dry-wretched again at the nauseous feeling that threatened to overwhelm him. 

     A hand burst out of the ground and caressed his face. He seized it desperately at it, clinging to the fingers as the shock of pain ran through him, his bones twisting. He fought the feeling away as he tried to grasp onto the familiar skin and her scent. "P-Pandora," he gasped, accidentally twisting the fingers in his pain. Another hand rose from the ground and touched his lips, and then reached around to grasp his shoulders, pulling him down into the tunnel of baby-blue. 

     "Fly," said Pandora, ghostly lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Fly, my Francis, be free, and catch the little one." 

----------------------------------- 

     Harry heard the piercing, heart-wrenching, musical call of a phoenix. She opened her eyes against her free-fall and felt something brush her outstretched hands. A golden head crested with amber feathers and a neck of the same shades of color neck appeared under her view. Her fingers touched soft feathers, and a holt of understanding shot through her mind. She reached outward and wrapped her arms around the neck of the gigantic phoenix of gold and amber. She buried her face in the soft feathers as Francis pulled out of the free-fall and flapped through a tunnel of baby blue. 

     "We're safe now," Harry babbled, her voice melting from its high pitch into the alto tones of being male. There was a subtle shift in size and weight, and Harry was once more male whose purpose was complete as he and Francis flew onward to home. 

----------------------------------- 

     The final chain snapped free of Voldemort, the one that was tied to him and him alone. The chain whipped around, entangling itself with the cord that was attached to Riddle's heart. The cord and chain tangled together, becoming one great rope that led from his heart to Harry Potter's heart. 

     With the final link to life gone, Voldemort screamed in pain from the abrupt loss of Chance and a deep chasm opened up beneath him. Shadowy Darker Forces that Be shot upward from the burning fires of the middle of the earth and snatched him, their hands plucking wildly at piece after piece and piece that Voldemort had carefully reconstructed of himself. He screamed in fury as the Beings took back what they had given, and then fled back into the middle of the earth. The chasm closed, and the skeleton of Voldemort stood before Riddle. It took a step forward, a hand reaching desperately out to this Other him, and little by little, his skeleton crumbled into the dust it should have been fourteen years ago. 

     Riddle stared at the dust, but even that disappeared as a sudden blast of wind swept it all away. In some sense, it was the final irony. Nothing that was Voldemort existed anymore. A man that had worked for immortality couldn't have been punished any more than to know nothing was left. 

     Riddle collapsed on the ground. Everything was done. The Universe was saved, Harry lived, and Francis and Pandora were, in essence, reunited. Despite all that, he couldn't help but feel there was a missing piece to this completed puzzle. Ah, whatever. He was too tired to care. With that thought, he closed his eyes and dreamt of flying a phoenix through a great long tunnel. 

----------------------------------- 

     Draco scrambled as the hounds of the Wild Hunt yipped at his heels. "Why me?" he yelled at the sky. "I'm one of the good guys!" 

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**author's notes:** Confusing? Random? Jumpy? Of course! This was the final battle; the war has been won and everyone has served their purpose (well, almost, Marcia has to little more to do, as well as Cousin Quigley and Pandora). This is the second to last chapter. In other words, the next chapter will the closing chapter, and then I will be finished with _Pandora's Box_ (aside from the usual post-finished editing that the story will undergo as a closing sequence for me as a writer).   
It took me some time to finish this chapter; mostly because some of these scenes had to be handled very delicately. At the moment, this chapter will undergo some revision in the future pertaining to the language I used. I'm not sure if its conveying the powerful scenery that I want to be conveying. In the meantime, let's see how many of you appreciate JK Rowling making a guest appearance--as well as my little sister, my best friend's dog, myself, my home after 2003 fire season, and my pet gerbil, Liamort (loosely named for Voldemort). 


	30. Epilogue

     "Here we are!" Marcia declared happily as she and Pandora finally entered the dimension of their destination. They stood shoulder to hip on the Quidditch field. Pandora leaned against Marcia and eased herself around to see Dumbledore standing expectedly before them. 

     "Ah. You're just in time to learn that it is all over," Dumbledore said. 

    "Where were _you_?" Pandora asked him in a soft voice. "While the others battled, you were not among them." 

     Dumbledore's eyes glinted with something that reminded Marcia too much of the Lord of Chaos when He was plotting something. "Watching," he said finally, "and waiting for the outcome. If the outcome was good, which it is, I would have accepted it, which I did. If the outcome was less than that, I was prepared to do something about that." 

     "Ah." Pandora's eyes narrowed as she slowly dropped her hand from Marcia and stood on her own accord. "Lucky us for having you as a backup." She muttered something dark under her voice that sounded suspiciously like, "You conniving bastard, you." 

     "Someone had to be." 

     "Naturally." 

     Marcia tugged on Pandora's sleeve. "If you don't need me, I'll go looking for the others." Pandora said nothing, but she gave Marcia a terse nod. With that confirmation, Marcia Jumped to where her son was. Harry2 and Harry Potter leaned back against back. Harry2's head drooped tiredly while Harry Potter laughed and babbled to himself, perched on the edge of insanity. Pandora's power protected him only so much, and the recent affects of Voldemort in his mind and the death of Sirius had weakened him. Marcia tried to follow the line of his words, but they swept around and around in convoluted circles that only served to make her feel dizzy. 

     "Hallo, Mom," Harry2 said without looking up. Marcia crouched down and pressed a hand against his cheek. A rune flowed momentarily at her touch before it faded away. "I had to use it." He grinned. "It was great!" 

     Marcia smiled. "Are you hurt anywhere?" 

     "If I am, I'm too numb to feel it." Harry2 was silent for a moment before he twisted and craned his neck to look at his other self. "How's the egg of Sirius that Francis gave you?" 

     "Last I seen, he hatched." 

     "Oh?" Harry2 looked hopefully at his mother. "How is he?" 

     "Repaired, somewhat." 

     "Good, 'cause this Harry sure could use him." Harry2 jabbed his thumb at the other Harry, who fell silent in his babbling. "He lost his Sirius through a veil." 

     Marcia's eyebrows shot up. "He lost him? That took some doing." 

     "Lost, as in Sirius is dead when he went through the veil. It's all confusing to me too, but the Sirius in the egg sure needs a Harry, and I don't want him." 

     "He has to go with Lupin then, since they came in a pair." 

     "Fair enough." Harry2 held his hand out to Marcia. "I'm willing to go home now." 

     Marcia looked uncomfortable. "Um. Yes. About that. We have a problem." 

     Harry2's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "Problem? We? Are you implicating me again?" 

     "Hey! You're the one who decided to help the other Harry. You were gone for two years, and there's no way we're going back to the point we left. I said no time traveling when you and Hermione decided to play that with Timex and I meant it." 

     Harry2 thought about that for a moment. "Mom, if I was gone for two years, why didn't you ever come looking for me?" 

     Marcia sat down on the floor beside Harry and pushed her glasses up her nose where they had slipped down. "Followed now and then," she said, "but you just kept moving further and further into the future, and you never_ seemed _to be in any trouble and you weren't moving through time by your own accord, so I left it at that. Despite," she continued bravely before he could interrupt, "how everyone was blaming me for your disappearance." 

     "Did you tell them what I was doing." 

    "Nope; said you were off on some special training." That would work, considering how she had explained Harry2's disappearance during most of autumn of his fourth year at Hogwarts, only to have him come back in his full demonling form. "So we've got two years to give me that special training," Harry2 mused. 

    "Yup." Marcia looked around. "I'm thinking of staying with the Harry you were Jumping with, and that Francis. But not the Draco," she added as an afterthought. "You can go to school so you don't miss those two years, give you that training, and then we can go back to our dimension." 

    Harry2 sighed. "It's a warzone," he said. 

    "Yup." 

    "I'm not going to want to go back after two years. And it's going to be hard for the other dimension to accept two Harrys, let alone the other Draco and Francis, who's supposed to be dead." 

     Marcia looked thoughtful. "If Sirius and Lupin have to go together, can we add Draco?" 

     Harry2 glared at his mother. "Absolutely not!" 

     She pouted. "If you really want him, you can come out and say so. I'm getting mixed signals here." 

     "I don't want him! But neither does this Harry!" He pointed at the subject of their talk, who had drawn his knees to his chest and was rocking back and forth on his heels, muttering demented things under his breath. "He has enough problems as it is without adding Draco into the mix." 

     "Hmm." Marcia frowned thoughtfully. "Saaaay, where is Draco?" she asked. 

======================== 

     "Nooooboooody knooooows, the trouuuuuble I've seeeen! Nooobooooody knoooooows my sooorrooooww!" Draco paused in his singing and glanced down through the branches. The hounds all lounged around the tree trunk. Some looked bored while others slept. The Hunter himself was sitting cross-legged and facing the tree Draco had somehow shinnied up to the uppermost branches that were strong enough to hold his weight. The Hunter made a fist and shook it at Draco, and he stuck his tongue at him. "As soon as enough strength to Apparate, I'm sooo leaving you deadbeats behind!" 

     The Hunter gave him the finger. 

======================== 

  
_ Eight months later._

     "You'll not be rebuilding Dinsmore?" Dumbledore looked at Pandora in surprise as they walked together over the hillsides of upstate New York, USA. Pandora's hair had turned half-gray due to no longer being near the healing properties of her family, and she still limped and leaned heavily on her cane for support. 

     "Dinsmore is the home of the Snapes," Pandora said as they paused beneath the shade of a two-hundred year old oak tree. "The Snapes are no more." There was sorrow in her eyes as she turned and looked over her shoulder at the picnic the others had set up at the edge of the hill. The sounds of voices, the words indistinct, drifted up to them. Marcia and Draco were arguing over who got what piece of chicken while Francis was trying to mediate and Riddle only laughed at all three of them. 

     "What do you intend to do?" Dumbledore asked as they continued on. Pandora was breathing too heavily to answer as they finally managed to scale the hill. She remained silent for a few moments as she surveyed the surrounding green acreage. 

     "I've always wanted to have a school for unwanted children," she said. "Ever since Severus entered my life, I've had to wonder how many other abandoned children were there out there in the world who had magical capabilities being wasted. Just think," she said as she looked at Dumbledore, "of how it would be to always wonder why you were different, never truly being fulfilled as long as an integral part of who you are and what you can do is never made known. And if it is made known through some absurd accident, you begin to wonder about yourself, about reality. Francis and I decided that's what we should do. We'd use the funds to rebuild Dinsmore to instead build a school for these abandoned and orphaned children." 

     "Yes, but in the United States?" 

     "And why not?" Pandora waved her arm to indicate their surroundings. "The United States is a quaint place, proclaiming itself the country of freedom and dreams, the perfect place for abandoned children to grow up and learn of their actuality." 

     "They also have four schools of witchcraft and wizardry." 

     "But my school will not just be for Americans, but for children all around the world. It is the perfect country for a melting pot that is a school, and I understand we have interesting neighbors just beyond this holler. Although I will admit there are other reasons for choosing this country for a school besides its ideology." Pandora pressed a finger against her lip as a faraway look came to her eyes. "Great Britain has too many memories for me," she said, "and it's changed too much for Francis to find acceptance in himself. The United Kingdom bears too many scars from Voldemort, and both Draco and Tom have been isolating themselves more and more. Even my Severus has many problems with life and Hogwarts in general. We must start anew, and the American Bureaucracy of Magic has less red tape to cut through in regards to establishing a school than other English-speaking countries." 

     "Ah." Dumbledore nodded to himself. "This is beautiful country for a school," he said. He smiled benignly at Pandora. "So you would be taking my potions professor?" he asked. "I do admit he is the best." 

     Pandora shook a mocking finger at Dumbledore. "You already have a ghost for a professor!" she said with a bright smile. "I'm fairly sure that two somehow exceed Administration rules!" 

     Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply to that, but remained silent when a droning hum filled the air. With a high-pitched foooom, something materialized overhead, and the jet sailed onward, slowing down before its descent became a landing beyond the trees and curving hills. Dumbledore's eyebrows shot to his receded hairline. "You mentioned interesting neighbors?" he asked. 

     "Ah, yes." Pandora nodded to herself, hardly surprised at the machine they had just witnessed. "I believe it's the Xavier School for Gifted Children. I have a premonition that interaction may be simply marvelous." 

     Dumbledore looked over his shoulder at where the jet had landed. "Yes," he said, "marvelous." 

     Down below, Harry paused in mid-bite of his potato salad. "What time is it?' he asked Harry2. Without pausing in wolfing down his potato salad, Harry2 pulled a digital watch from his pocket and shook it fiercely before handing it to Harry. Harry gingerly held it before two barbeque-sauce smudged fingers and looked at the watch face. Cousin Quigley stared at him resentfully where numbers should have been. "What time is it?" he asked. 

     "It was time for my nap," Cousin Quigley said with no small resentment at being disturbed in such a rude manner. 

     "Your fault," Harry said lightly. "Should have thought of haunting something other than the watch Marcia gave Harry for Christmas. Now what time is it?" 

     "Mine! You got the last piece of chicken!" Draco held the chicken leg behind him, beyond Marcia's reach as she waved her hands and tried to pull his arms toward her. 

     "It was a small wing!" she complained. 

     The Hunter grabbed the chicken leg from Draco and gave it to one of the hounds that had plopped itself across Riddle's lap and growled whenever Riddle tried to shift the heavy weight. It slobbered on the chicken leg and began to wag its tail eagerly, its end hitting Riddle on the nose repeatedly. He tried to shift his sleeping legs beneath him, but the tail suddenly stopped wagging and the hound growled as it twisted to look at Riddle. Draco glared resentfully at the Hunter. "I wish you'd go back to wherever the hell you came from," he muttered darkly with one nasty look sent Marcia's way. She stopped waving her hands and hunched her shoulders without looking at anyone. 

     "Wasn't my fault," she said firmly. 

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**author's notes:** Woooow! All done! And it only took me TWO YEARS to finish this story! Well, it's not really quite finished. I still have editing to do to the entire story in regards to plot continuum, dialogue, characterization, grammar, and all the mild little details that mean nothing by a single self but add up to a great deal of quality when considered as a whole. I do not plan to continue this story, although I may add little sideline bonuses of scenes I had to cut given the length of the story, or some misadventure of the school Pandora plans on creating.  
Now, some may wonder why I leave the ending as I had, with some gaps here and there and some unanswered questions. Some may say because I became very tired of writing this story. (This is not true; I love to write the story, although I have few regrets of leaving it behind.) I simply feel that a story never truly begins or ends; a story is simply something that spans between Point A and Point B, and continues on in both directions. I selected a part of the story I wanted to tell, and then leave it up to you, the reader, to imagine what takes place then.  
Or a person can just say I was lazy and tired and just wanted this darn thing to fricken' _end_ already. =) 


	31. Sidestory: The Little Man That Couldn't

**author's notes:** Like many other stories, _A Gutter Rat's Tale_ and _Pandora's Box_ were finished with questions still left unanswered or scenes that could not be told because there was no space or time to tell them. Cousin Quigley's life is largely a story left untold, a little man with no control and no ability to stand up for himself. Used beyond his limits and against his will, left with nothing in return, I felt it was only fair to explain something of his relationship with the Mirror of Rebounds, and how it was that he be neither portrait or family ghost.  
I will admit that I am not much of an angst fan. I have enough misery and trials in my own life that I don't need to seek out the misery and trials of others. I do have moments of happiness, moments in which the misery and trials cease and I can breathe in peace. The such is for many of us, and we can see this witnessed by both Severus Snape and James Potter as they are portrayed in the aforementioned stories. However, every now and then there are the people who seem, both to themselves and to outsiders, to never get any respite whatsoever. Cousin Quigley was one of those people.  
I warned that James' side-story was miserable; it made me cry and it made other readers quite sick to their stomach with its vividly-portrayed violence. Cousin Quigley's side-story may not make other readers sick to their stomachs from any vivid portrayal of any story, although there are allusions made, it did make me cry.  
Poor Quigley. I feel two inches tall for creating a character whose life is as hopeless as his own.

Despite not actually being much of a fan for angst, how is that I can write it so well? o.O

**THE LITTLE MAN THAT COULDN'T**

_Quigley Snape had always received the short deal of things in life. Admittedly he never had much of a spine to begin with, but why was it that every time he tried to grow or establish something that remotely resembled a spine, something would come along to snap it in half? He had a beautiful wife; she left him. He had a beautiful son; he himself abandoned to a fate where death was the only and kindest action. With death, at least, one retained the sense of humanity. He had had a career in what was the first wizarding school created in a new country; his crutch that was alcohol had destroyed that. At first, the Mirror of Rebounds and the Universe could not penetrate the thick haze of alcohol. But it bore on, more relentless and more penetrating than a flesh-eating disease. _

Alcohol, once effective but no longer, was now a cruel chain that held him to a destiny set in stone that could not be shattered, no matter how Quigley tried to swing the hammer. It was too large for such a frail person, to heavy for someone of such a weak constitute. He tried to bear it, tried to bow to the constant wishes of some Great Other. He was, after all, only a tool for the more important purpose of the great Universe. 

Who was he, the little Hufflepuff who never amounted to anything, whose family often wondered why they hadn't taken the chance to strangle him in the crib, to say no? 

"Sometimes," he says conversationally to the thing that sits across from him as his back is pressed against the bare wall, an empty bottle in his left hand, "sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve this life." He is a hundred and fifty years old; he looks like a corpse that should be buried in a deep hole somewhere. What few, desperate strands of frail white hair remains are matted and greasy. He has reached that unerring point in one's life where food, love, and air no longer matters. Death is not a friend, but a lover that giggles and plays coyly beyond his reach. Family has turned its back upon its greatest shame, and all he had to keep himself company are future horrors that he hasn't the power to halt. 

"You know," he continues with a sage nod, "I wish there was someway to speak to Hyacinth. Maybe he would explain what I am; neither Wanderer or Caller, I am a Watcher. Never had one of those," he says mournfully, "and I do not relish the questionable honor of being the first." If he were the first; there may have been others, but they would surely have been driven mad at a much younger age. "It would explain the various suicides the Snapes tend to have every three or four generations." He sighs and drops the empty bottle. It rolls away from him, toward the spinning light. Quigley holds his hands up and inspects them. The skin ss parchment yellow and just as delicate. It ss stretched taut over painfully knobby fingers that become increasingly stiff as the days pass. He buries his face in his hands and remains thus for hours. When the Universe does not haunt him, his own past is too eager to make itself remembered. 

How can one wash the stains away, when the stains permeate to the very core of one's being? 

White Rabbit never had a place in the wizarding world. She had been the daughter of a great medicine man, and her beliefs and abilities of attending to nature could only have found its equal in the druids, long gone and passed away from all parts of the world except Quigley, who suffered the past a little better than he did the future. She had found refuge in him, although no one, certainly not Quigley, knew why. When her child was taken away from her by the man she loved, she removed herself from the man. 

He pleaded with the Mirror of Rebounds, begged, tried everything that he knew, so the Mirror could tell him where White Rabbit went. The Mirror was resolute; nothing would it give to the person it demanded everything from. Quigley packed up and followed after White Rabbit to the ends of the world as she searched for her child. From the great Orient to the Arctic. Quigley always remained three or four steps behind, always a day late and a dollar short. 

"No, really. What did I do?" The Mirror of Rebounds, as it was wont to do, speaks nothing. It does not yet convenience it to tell Quigley anything. "I wonder if there was any time I could have taken another path. I might still have my White Rabbit and Dominic." Quigley's head droops and his chin presses against his chest. "It's too late," he murmurs, far too past the point of tears. He has reached a sense of numbness that alcohol in all its entity and many forms could never have created. 

He crosses his arms and tucks his cold hands under his armpits, and settles against the wall again. 

He awaits death. It is long time in coming. 

Five years passed. Ten. Then twenty, thirty, and forty more years went by. Before they knew it, they had grown old. 

With no sign of Dominic, White Rabbit tried to go back to her people. Scorned by them and treated with hatred, she left with her life barely intact. She roamed the New World, from one end to another, ever searching, always staying ahead of the one who had betrayed her heart. Quigley eventually made his way into the Texas Territory, and finally caught up with his beloved. Still a day late and a dollar short; never able to recover the losses he had wrought. 

Lost in the desert, unused to such a brutal land, she chased forlornly after the laughing image of a little boy with curly black hair and snapping black eyes, calling his name and crying tears of happiness. "I've found you! Come to mama, my love, come to mama!" 

It had been the sight of vultures that told Quigley where she was found, and he buried what remained of his wife in a pit that he dug with his bare hands. That done, his own lost wanderings across the West left him destitute and miserable, alone in a tavern, where a Wander stumbled across him. 

That face too much like the one of whose life was as dictated as his own. The things said, the pain remembered, paralyzed Cousin Quigley's heart. 

"No. Stop. No more." Quigley turns his head from the spinning light, trying to block out images that pour relentlessly into his mind. "Don't. I can't." The Mirror of Rebounds listens not to the pitiful pleads of a mere mortal, no matter how tired and weary the mortal may be. Quigley whimperesand buries his head under his arms, curling into a ball as if he could protect what fragile constitute remains. Stubbornly, the future bombards him.  


He stared at the Mirror of Rebounds at the end of the day when the girl-boy left, taken by the Mirror and led by himself, only different. "What have you done?" he demanded the Mirror, which remained silent and uncaring to his demands. "You will destroy that child as you have me!" he cried plaintively. Still, the Mirror would not respond. Quigley hurried over to it, picked it up, and shook it fiercely. "Stop it at once! Use me as you have always, but leave others out of it!" 

If the Universe could stick its tongue out and blow a raspberry, it was surely doing it now.  


"You've won." Quigley bows his head, ready for the ax to fall. Why did everything he ever tried to do amount to nothing? No one wants to remember him; his legacy is booze and nightmares, truth thought of as lies, lies thought of as truth. Snapes are supposed to be cunning; he is naïve and stupid. Snapes are supposed to be stout of heart, even if of questionable moral; he is weak and useless. "What do you want of me?" he asks the mirror. 

Too sick at heart and not used to being reponded to, he nearly misses what the Mirror of Rebounds tells him. 

"Me?" Quigley laughs, bitter and mocking even in his own ears. Rheumy eyes stare at the Mirror of Rebounds as it spins on its axel. He couldn't even perish in the darkness, out of sight and peacefully alone. "Oh yes, you've always wanted me. You refuse to give me up; even the smallest bit of freedom never existed."  


He was a creature of whims. Someone else's whims. 

"I don't want you to have him. You can't have him. You already have me and enough is enough. Please, I beg of you. You have me, you've always had me, and you've never let me go."  


The Universe is said to be benevolent. It is said to be bound together by a Love that was All-Encompassing. Nothing could compare to the breadth and depth of that Love. 

"The boy can win?" A feeling, so foreign and felt so far ago that Quigley no longer recognizes it as hope, fills his chest until it feels like he will burst and leave little Quigley-bits about. 

"Take me then." Too old, too tired, too weak to stand up, Quigley pushes himself forward and crawls toward the light. He manages to pull himself up on his knees and hold his head high. The light expandes, and he holds shaking hands up to touch it. It presses outward, surrounds his hands, and grows to envelope his arms. He expects it to be at least warm, but it chills him and invades his bone like a creeping poison.  


It is said that you always hurt the ones you love the most. 

The light encompasses him, fills him, surrounds him, and draws him into its source. He falls into it, and comes to rest at the foot of a great tapestry that stretches into nothingness. He closes his eyes, and sleeps. He is still not at peace, still haunted, but at least how steeled by a purpose to rectify damages done, and to assure that his destiny will not be known by another innocent. 

When the Mirror of Rebounds was found in Dinsmore by the young father-to-be of Severus the Elder, it was believed that Quigley, the plague of the Snape family, was dead. It was generally felt that this was good riddance to bad rubbish. 

The body was never found. 

He is not dead, nor ever would be. His life is preserved by an artifact that has known existence since the days of the druids. He has traded peace and obliteration in death for the honor that he has lost, for the family that has never accepted him. 

One day, a ghost of a child came to him, lost from his own family, unable to move on, trapped and forlorn. He carried his head in his arms, which cried tears of blood. 

"Here," Quigley said, "you may sit with me. We'll keep each other company, although I admit I am poor company at best." 

"I want my brother," little Jonathan said. "I want James." 

Quigley's face fell. "I'm trying to help and I'm botching it terribly, aren't I?" 

The accusation in little Jonathon's flat, dead eyes said it all. 

Yes, he is weak. Yes, he is naïve. Yes, he is stupid; that is why he accepted such a bargain. He is also alone, and in two hundred years there will be not a person living who would know what he sacraficed - no. To sacrafice something is to actually have it to give up. He hadn't anything to sacrafice . . . 

He would be alive to the end of the Universe, which will come eventually, for he can see the end. It will not come in a thousand lifetimes, perhaps not even ten thousand, but it is there. The death of the Universe is slow but ever does it make progress. He has stayed a much quicker death and helped an innocent at the cost of many thousand years of torment. 

The Mirror of Rebounds still exists, still besieges him, and so he will never find peace until there is no more future, no more possibilities. 

Alone beneath a great tapestry that he had helped repair, Quigley Snape cries for himself. 

After all, no one else will spare a tear on his behalf.


End file.
